


Mutiny

by Intent_To_Stay



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asexual Character, CCG Kaneki Ken, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Eating Disorders, Everyone Has Issues, Friendship, Gen, Ghoul Investigator Kaneki Ken, Hallucinations, Hide is sneaky, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kaneki has issues, Literature, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-04 01:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5314187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Intent_To_Stay/pseuds/Intent_To_Stay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kaneki Ken's immersion into the world of ghouls and death doesn't come gradually. It beats him over the head for a solid three days and then makes him an investigator.</p><p>And then things get complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Nail

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first dive into TG fanfiction. This story was inspired by the great Mea Culpa Mea Culpa and Sublimation. Expect plot and many POVs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: May 9th 2016
> 
> This chapter has been redone to deal with continuity errors. The other chapters will be up shortly.

A rookie officer furrowed their brow. He walked the length of the crime scene once more, biting his lip in concentration. It just didn’t make sense.

He glanced up. His superior was far away, speaking to a consultant about the various scenarios of criminal neglect and intentional sabotage. Yoshi wished he would get over here. He needed to pick his brain and Takeri always asked the right questions.

Yoshi glanced back to the floor. The dusty concrete was stained with an insane amount of dried blood. Yoshi held back an annoyed sigh. Bystanders had tracked blood everywhere, and the result was a macabre collage of tracks, frenzied and laid up upon themselves over and over again like ants swarming a dead insect. He could tell one of them managed to slip and fall in the slick when it was fresh, and he felt a laugh bubble up.

God, this job was getting to him.

At least one of the kids involved had managed to survive; the girl had been dead on arrival, but the boy, despite the huge hole in his abdomen, had managed to pull through.

It was all the news had been talking about. The doctor was under fire for an unauthorized transplant; Yoshi was of the opinion that he did the right thing. Ethics were nice and all. He thought life was better.

Yoshi smacked his forehead, and breathed deeply through the smell of iron. “Come on, focus.” The air felt almost solid in his lungs, but he once again walked the length of the scene, trying to discern what was bothering him. Yoshi had done his college thesis on blood splatter analysis, but he couldn’t make heads or tails of this mess.

The general consensus among the station didn’t see this as intentional. Death by falling beams was too unreliable a murder method; the supports would all have to be cut quickly, in a precise and coordinated manner, and even then, the odds those hitting a specific target were extremely slim. . . That being said, the beams here had all managed to fall in a very specific place, which frankly screamed “suspicion” to Yoshi.

This whole thing was intentional, that much he could tell. What he couldn’t tell was if those kids were just that unlucky or if some killer got his kicks from convoluted murder methods.

Yoshi’s breath caught. He had wandered away from the main scene, trying to get the stench of blood out of his mouth. He hadn’t expected to find more. He slowly approached a smudge on the floor, as if it would vanish if he moved too fast. 

It didn’t. It stayed perfectly put, innocently peeking out from under a casually thrown tarp weighed down with all the nuances of construction. There was a heavy layer of dust on some of the equipment, but that didn’t stop Yoshi. He examined the surrounding area with a sharp eye and slowly approached the wall. Incredibly faint, but still there. Blood stain. The smell of watered down bleach.

He quickly pulled out his phone, and began snapping pictures. The tarp. The wall. The camera couldn’t pick up on it. The camera saw an undisturbed and dusty work area. Yoshi saw an extended crime scene.

Delicately, he lifted up the edge of the tarp. A wave of bleach assaulted his nose. It was still wet underneath. Which meant it was fresh, twelve hours old, at most.

The cops had dismantle the direct scene to transport the victims. That had been at night, without floodlights and with flashing red lights. Who would notice blood forty yards away? Especially if there was no trail for them to follow.

Slowly, Yoshi lifted the edges of the tarp and folded it over various steel girders. Those would have required a group to move. The surrounding area would have noticed if the crane had been activated.

Even if part of the puzzle was still covered, Yoshi could discern enough:

A long, streaking progression on the ground; it lead to a starburst pattern on a wall, and then pressure streaks sliding down the concrete of the same wall. Someone had clearly tried to wash it off. They almost had, but blood is hard to get out of porous materials.

Yoshi was sort of wishing for the cloying smell of blood. The bleach was starting to burn his nose.

He closed his eyes, his heart racing in his chest.

His thoughts were too frantic, so he focused back on the blood. It had dried and soaked the concrete before anyone had tried to clean it, so the suspect had probably waited until after the police had taken statements and left to do anything.

He set his mind to the components. He walked the length of the first segment. The smears and drips suggested the victim was stumbling, trying to run, maybe? But then there was a sudden stop, and more of a pool-like formation. Pressure on a the injury lifted, for whatever reason, and stray drops signified that the blood was coming from a _much_ higher source than originally,  _which didn’t make sense!_

Yoshi growled, his head ache building. The signs were clear, but they didn’t go together at all. “Ok, ok, what about this part?” and he walked to the wall. There was no trail between the two points. Maybe the victim was thrown? Could there be more than one? There was obviously blunt force trauma here, someone thrown against the wall with great force, and then limply sliding down.

 There was struggle to get away, but then there were pools, more like rivulets from a higher ground with more motion, but suddenly cut out. There weren’t even stains. But there was a bit of a leeching edge on the furthest rivulet. Another already placed tarp or covering? It was construction site, a valid explanation. That might explain the lack of connection between the two stain sections, and would also explain why the officers didn’t bother to look in the dark.

Mind racing faster and faster, Yoshi followed the original section; it went out a back alley way. He carefully discerned trails of blood from the rough streets. It was darker here. Harder to tell by sight.

But Yoshi knew.

He could still smell bleach, evaporated as it was.

It was a short distance, but it confirmed the suspicions growing in his mind. The victim hadn’t been wounded on site. He had ran there to escape his attacker. And someone was trying to cover that up.

_“Yoshi!”_

Yoshi jumped. Behind him was a very red-faced, obviously annoyed senior police chief.

Takeri growled out, “What the hell! What are you even doing over here? Last time I checked, there were ghouls running in this area, and you just decide to take a stroll through the alley ways?!”

Yoshi went cold. “Ghouls?”

“Yes! You know, vicious, man-eating monsters? You’re too good at paper work for you to die before I retire, so let’s get back to the site.” He turned quickly, eyeing the ends of the alley with suspicion.

“Takeri-san?”

Takeri stopped at his tone. “Yes?” He asked, a hint of worry and confusion coloring his words.

“Um, I was following a trail, and I think that there was more going on than what we know that night, because uh someone tried to wash out a section of the scene, a part that I—“

“Jesus, kid, just spit it out!”

Yoshi didn’t even protest being called a kid. He straightened his shoulders and ducked his head, took a deep breath to calm his heart beat. “There is a blood trail leading here. It suggests that someone was wounded here, and ran to the construction site before meeting with an attacker again, and I’m not sure, there might be—“

A hand clapped his thin shoulder warmly. Yoshi was a bit surprised. He looked up to see Takeri, his eyes bright and excited.

“Good work, Yoshi! Show me—the quicker the better; we can pull samples to determine the victim. If it matches with either the two involved with the accident nearby, then I think you can be looking forward to a raise!”

Yoshi gaped. “Really? Oh, thank—”

Takeri waved him off. “No, no, you’ve had one a long time coming. The consultant I was speaking to said this reeked of intentional damage, so your discovery really speeds up the process. Hell, we might be looking at an assassination attempt, as strange as it sounds.”

 _Not attempt_ , Yoshi almost said. _They killed someone. They were successful._

Instead he smiled dutifully. It wasn’t hard. Solving puzzles was fun even with all the awful smells involved.

“How did you find it though?” Takeri said. “I saw what you were looking at, but I wouldn’t have looked twice.”

Yoshi pursed his lips. “I smelled bleach,” he said mildly. Because, _really_ , he realized, _that was it._ Even before he had seen that faded smudge leaking from under the tarp, bleach had been prickling at his nose. It just took a moment to place it.

Takeri shook his head. “Why am I not surprised?”

Yoshi shrugged.

Takeri snorted. “I swear, kid, you’re like a human blood hound. First that insane trick you pull with Omatsu’s lunch and now this.”

In Yoshi’s defense, Omatsu was a dick. The bathroom thing had been the last straw. If he kept wanting to bet that Yoshi couldn’t figure out exactly what he was having for lunch from smell alone, it was his fault for expecting different results. The five thousand yen Yoshi offered every time was no excuse.

They made their way through the alley ways, but Takeri stopped in his tracks, tilting his head. He squinted at marks on the walls. Yoshi thought they reminded him of slime molds. Gross.

“What is it?”

“I’ve seen this stuff before, a few years ago while I was working a case, I might be paranoid but…” He trailed off, before abruptly turning away and pulling out his phone. “Yeah, listen, Saiyuu, I need a forensics team over here stat. We have new evidence, blood trails and the consultant and stuff, but I found something strange.”

He paused, almost as if he were choosing his words carefully, but Yoshi was certain Takeri had never minced words a day in his life. “It may be nothing, but just send someone over with equipment for DNA collection.”

Then they headed back to the construction site. Yoshi showed Takeri the washed blood spatters, and tried to piece together what had happened. Takeri slowly regained his humor, but Yoshi had been his partner for years, and he could tell he was worried.

It wasn’t until a few days later, when Takeri was treating Yoshi to lunch in celebration for the break in another case that Yoshi understood.

One second, Takeri was grinning, telling stories from some of his old cases, his hand sneaking closer and closer to the drink menu, knowing that full and well that Yoshi would scold him for drinking when they had to go back to work afterwards. His phone rang, and he answered easily, still lively, “Ah, Saiyuu-san, good news I hope?”

The next, he was dead serious, his brow furrowed and his hand reaching for a pen and a napkin. “Damnit,” he sighed, “I was hoping I was wrong. Four thousand count, you say?” He waved the bartender over, and mouthed “Sake” silently. He listened intently to the phone.

Yoshi didn’t try to reprimand him.

“And did you match the DNA to anyone?” Takeri raised the glass to his lips, and suddenly went pale. He set the saucer down. “Ah.” He gripped the pen in his hand tightly. “No, no, Saiyuu, I’ll call them… Yes, just tell me the number… Ok, goodbye.”

Takeri sighed heavily eyeing his food contemplatively before throwing back his alcohol in one gulp. He turned to Yoshi. “So, you were right about the blood trails. We matched them to the boy. And, well,” He shifted uncomfortably. “The girl—it appears she—“

Takeri turned back to his phone and dialed the number on the napkin. Yoshi strained to listen to the other side of the conversation.”

_“CCG 20 th ward HQ, how may I help you?”_

“Yeah, this is Takeru Satoh, 20th ward police chief. I think we have a case you should look at.”

_“Of course. Are you able to come in? I can schedule an appointment with an investigator.”_

“Yes, we’ll be right over.” He hung up. Takeri sighed and eyed his food distastefully, before paying for his meal. As they walked out he said plainly, “I’m trying not to think about it, but we have evidence that says the girl involved in that ‘accident’ is a ghoul.”

Yoshi almost stopped walking in his surprise. He felt his food turn rotten in his guts. “But,” he whispered horrified, “The boy he—he received—“

“I know,” Takeru said. “I have seen some fucked up things in all my years, but that has got to be one of the worst.”

* * *

 

Kaneki healed quickly. His doctor always seemed surprised to see him.

“It’s a miracle.”

Kaneki was disinclined to agree. He couldn’t muster the energy to stay awake half the time, but when he went to sleep, all he was greeted with were nightmares.

He couldn’t quite remember what had happened; there was a haze of heartbeats and adrenaline and fear every time he allowed his brain to stray to the topic. And pain. He remembered the pain with razor clarity, and his body reminded him of it. Sometimes, he woke up from a nap in agony, like hands were worming through his abdomen.

He was able to recognize nothing was wrong with him. His doctor assured him that he had healed nicely from the surgery. It might not even scar. So Kaneki was certain his symptoms were psychosomatic, and didn’t mention them, even when his doctor assured him that if he felt any pain he should talk about it.

“It’s such a tragedy, Rize-san’s death; but at least you were able to live.”

When Kanou said things along such lines, Kaneki nodded obediently. The nurses and personnel assumed he was still in shock, so they didn’t make any efforts to push him for details.

Kaneki understood defense mechanisms; the mind could twist things to avoid agony. The more he thought about it, the more he understood that his “memories” were inherently impossible. The doctors would have noticed if Rize was a ghoul—they had cut her open and stuffed portions of her in him after all.

 It was probably his brain; if he made Rize into a monster, then he couldn’t mourn her. He really liked her, after all. She was charming and calming, with a glint of majesty in her soft eyes. His brain had morphed her into a monster, one out of horrifying stories so he couldn’t feel the loss that came with her death.

On some level, he despaired. He looked forward to his date. He didn’t know many girls who liked Takatsuki. Well, if he wanted to be honest with himself, he didn’t know very many girls personally.

That was one of the perks of being a wallflower: limited scope of friends.

He didn’t eat. His nurse was concerned, but he really wasn’t hungry. He had made an effort the first day he woke up, but everything tasted off. His stomach rebelled against the thought of food, and trying to eat just made him nauseous. He wasn’t hungry, so he didn’t try.

A few days or so after Kaneki could consistently stay awake, they took him off intravenous feeding. Dr. Kanou came in and checked his incision for signs of infection. He did this personally every few day, making conversation easily as he prodded the stitches. “So, Kaneki-kun, nurse Mikoto tells me you haven’t been eating.”

Kaneki looked away. “Ah, no, I—“

“I know it has been a terrible ordeal for you, so I could understand why your appetite has been lacking.”

Kaneki bit his lip, but didn’t say anything. Kanou looked away from the incision, and put on his stethoscope, listening to his heart. “Breathe deeply, please.”

Kaneki obliged, but he felt the urge to lean away from the doctor’s clinical touch. His own body felt alien to him, and he knew from the nurses’ whispers that what Kanou did was unethical.

He felt stitched together, made from a damaged body glued together with dead tissue. Every time he looked this man who had saved his life in the face, he felt revulsion and shame, and he hated that he felt that way.

He couldn’t really trust his memories, but he still felt the results of them.

“Kaneki-kun, you appear to be in perfect health.” The doctor smiled, jotting down a few things on his chart. “Considering the extent of the trauma to your body, you’re very lucky.”

Of all the words to describe, Kaneki would have never chosen lucky.

“I just want to take a few blood samples to measure how your immune system is responding to foreign tissue.” Kanou wiped a spot on his arm clean, and Kaneki had to grit his teeth not to flinch at the needle slowly stabbing into his arm. Kanou chuckled at his grimace. “From what I can tell, though, your body responded positively to the transplant. Blood chemistry is good; I’m a bit worried about your eating habits. Could you try something now?”

Kaneki hesitantly took the apple the doctor offered him from his bed side. He had been feeling bit hungry this morning. A bite couldn’t hurt. Just because he remembers being eaten doesn’t mean he can’t eat. It looked delicious. Bright red. His stomach rumbled cooperatively.

He took a bite, and his teeth easily cut through the fruit. It tasted like a cross between vomit-inducing sweetness and rubbing alcohol. It  _burned—_ he spat it out, gagged, trying to scrape the taste off his tongue with his front teeth. Bile rose at the back of his throat, and Kaneki shuddered in revulsion. He looked down at his lap, expecting to see rotted fruit flesh seeping into his blankets, riddled with the thin wormy bodies of parasitic insects, some cut in half and flailing—

It was white. Whole. Normal.

Kanou looked concerned. “Is something wrong, Kaneki-kun?”

A new way of nausea washed over him, and he give a few shuddering gasps. “Ah-h, no, I just—“

Kanou smiled sadly. “I understand. Sometimes our mind goes against what our body needs. I’m sure you’ll overcome this.”

He turned and walked out of the room, and Kaneki appreciated the privacy. Gratitude. That was it. Kanou was understanding, and Kaneki, for the first time, felt grateful to him.

He had his life. It would be ungrateful to feel resentment for how he got it.

* * *

 

Kanou returned to his office, and filed away his patient’s medical information before unlocking the bottom drawer of his desk and pulling out a bulky and ancient scanner and plugging it into his computer. The thing was ancient technology in terms of ghoul scanning, but it served its purpose. His contact had promised an updated version in a few weeks

 He methodically transferred a small portion of his patient’s blood into the device, and then placed the rest in various containers, which he then delivered to toxicology. He smiled in greeting to his coworkers, made a bit of small talk before excusing himself. He made a mental note to order Notoro a birthday present. He wasn’t intending to attend the party, so he should probably add a case of high-quality sake to the impersonal exchange to make up for it.

To Dr. Kanou, appearances were almost as important to him as they were to ghouls. He knew the CCG checked in on him occasionally, but he made sure they never found anything. He had the resources to hide his resources, which was a bit amusing in his own right.

He returned to his office and settled into his chair. He peered at his bright computer terminal and examined the data and statistics splashed across the interface. He smiled pleasantly and opened Kaneki’s file.

 _RC cell count increasing exponentially_ , He wrote out leisurely. _White blood cell count still high, but stabilizing._

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and Kanou sighed before pausing to answer it. He furrowed his brow when he realized it was the phone in his other pocket.

“Hello,” He said mildly. He already knew who to expect, of course. Only four people had this particular number and three of them had no reason to call.

“Hey-o, Kanou,” the voice said cheerily.

Kanou had been expecting this, but it still felt a bit disappointing. “They found evidence?”

“Yep. The blood sat too long in various alley ways.” They sighed hyper-exaggeratedly. “And someone spotted secretions and looked twice. I’d give you a few days before they alert the CCG. Beaurcarcy is slow.”

Kanou frowned slightly. He had been prepared to face the consequences when he took such a perfect opportunity, but it stung to know he would have to vanish because of it. “For someone who prides themselves on diligence, that was incredibly shoddy work,” he informed him plainly.

When the voice over the other end came out with a hint of well hidden strain, Kanou knew he had scored a point.

“Ah, boss, you’re too cruel,” the voice replied sadly. Kanou had trouble imagining them without a smile.

“I never said I prided myself on kindness,” Kanou reminded.

“I’ll make it up to you,” they promised brightly. “Extra hours, dedication worthy of one such as yourself, and all the bodies you can stomach.”  

Kanou quirked his lips a bit. Their tone was joking, but Kanou didn’t doubt that they could follow through with their promises. Straying from their plan had been done on his whim. He couldn’t blame others for the consequences. All he could do was remember to treat spontaneity with all its due caution.

“After all, with Rize’s voracious organs, you’ll need a lot of strong men to satisfy her.”

Kanou snorted slightly and shook his head at the juvenile insinuations. He left them to dry out in silence before he finally shook his head and sighed. “You’re lucky you’re funny.”

They laughed over the other end so loudly it translated into static bursts. “Indeed,” they joked. “And we’re lucky to be in such a mutually beneficial relationship.”

“Aim for AB blood,” Kanou reminded dismissively.

“Roger, boss.”

_Click_

Kanou sigh, and rubbed a hand over his face and stuffed the cheap, pay-as-you-go phone back into his coat pocket. He only had a few days at most before the metaphorical axe fell. He had a few hours at worst.

That was the price for progress; hatred and possible death.

Kanou stood and began professionally organizing his already tidy office. He could probably manage most of his patient out care and recommendations before he went home. It was a bit dull, but he filled out recommendations diligently. Saving lives was ultimately rewarding—there was no reason to throw that away.

Not yet, at least.


	2. Retrieval and Reparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki just isn't having a good time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: MAY 9  
> Chapter has been edited

It took less than an hour following an appointment with the police chief for the CCG to determine that one of the participants in a nearby accident was the Binge Eater. The police had already been able to determine that Kagune secretions matched blood samples belonging to the female victim. They emailed the data to the CCG 20th ward HQ and sent physical samples to them with a messenger.

Lab technicians ran the samples up against their database, and they got a hit; Binge Eater. They turned the rest over to Shinohara and casually informed him that he was being assigned to the 20th ward, effective immediately.

He had mixed feelings about the entire incident.

After a frantic call from Division II logistics, he sighed. Kanou was like dust in the wind. His apartment looked clean, but there was a chunk taken out of his wardrobe and fridge. The nurses they contacted said he never showed up to work. His office looked pristine; all his patients had a clearly marked file detailing his recommendations for their care.

 The bureau would send investigators to examine the contents in greater detail, but Shinohara was certain that they wouldn’t find anything that would lend to a lead.

Except one thing.

The boy who had been found with the Binge Eater, he was still in his ward. It had taken a bit of persuasion, but Shinohara was nothing if not charismatic. The hospital head faxed him all available information after they had confirmed his authority. Shinohara didn’t mind the wait. It was a sign that the hospital took its duties regarding confidentiality seriously.

Shinohara read the report quickly, squinting to make out doctor-scratch reimagined by a printer with not enough toner. Kaneki Ken. 19. Admitted with serious penetrating abdominal trauma, broken ribs, fractured scapula and collarbone, a wound on his left shoulder, various scrapes on his hands, heavy bruising on dorsal area and concentrated pressure bruises on his left calf, sprained ankle, shifted intestines, ruptured kidney, lacerated liver, and copious blood loss. Type AB. Received transplanted kidney from female victim (DOA) as well as blood transfusion consisting of 2 pints.

Shinohara whistled. Kanou had managed to drag a person back to life when they should currently be in the ground. He wasn’t especially surprised. The CCG had scouted him during his first year of medical school. His expertise and talent were comparable to Arima in their respective fields—an absolute genius. His resigning had crippled their medical research department, and even today they had yet to find a more capable medical professional.

Shinohara wished Kanou had no relation to the CCG. Then, at least, he could pretend that Kanou had no idea he had given a human ghoul organs. But he couldn’t. Shinohara knew him personally. Kanou may have been their ghoul coroner, but he could also cure any injury an investigator had received in half the time it took others. He had patched Shinohara up once. He saved him from an arm amputation that would have ended his career.

Shinohara tossed the papers on the table, controlled even with the disgust stirring in him. He sat back in his chair and sighed heavily, running a hand over his face.  What was it with doctors? They never could be satisfied.

He resigned himself to a one-sided conversation with Marude, who was probably screaming already. That man stressed so much on the job that Shinohara was amazed he hadn’t gone prematurely gray.

 _“He might have,”_ Shinohara reasoned as he dialed the number. He could always dye it if his vanity got the best of him.  

“Hello?!” Crackled out over speakers not equipped to deal with that much noise. Yep. Definitely already screaming.

 Shinohara breathed deeply. “Marude-san, it’s Shi-“

“I KNOW WHO IT IS! WHAT?”

“It’s regarding the boy who received the Binge Eater’s organs,” Shinohara said patiently. “Do you want me to bring him in?”

Marude sighed on the other end before continuing, a touch of apology in his still rough tone. “I’ve sent people ahead to examine Kanou’s office. Others are still vetting his apartment. The ghoul corpse is missing from the morgue— shit, his actions have sparked so much uproar in the public, and they don’t even know the half of it. I’ve managed to keep it quite among most of the branches; only logistics and you really know the details, and Washuu has told me to handle it, so, yeah, go see what’s up with the kid. Maybe he’ll have information we could use.”

“Got it.”

Shinohara didn’t envy Marude. He wouldn’t touch that type of mess with a ten foot pole.

Shinohara immediately dialed another number. “Meet me at Kanou General Hospital. We’ve been given a case.”

“Aw,” a teen on the other end said sullenly. “I just found this amazing sweet shop. I don’t wanna investigate.”

Shinohara persisted. “We can go back there afterwards. It’ll be my treat.”

Silence. Then a sudden surge of energy. “Deal! I’m close by anyway.” They ended the call without a farewell.

Shinohara nodded, and then left the office. He couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to this boy, Kaneki Ken. Ghoul physiology, despite the similarities in function and appearance, was inherently different from human physiology. They needed RC cells and caffeine to survive and not much else. That obviously wouldn’t work with a human being.

No one had ever transplanted organs between these two species; now the CCG was dealing with another aftermath of a ghoul’s existence. Kaneki might die. How could his body provide such nutrients? He might have to take supplements, which wasn’t too horrible a fate.

He would have to live with the knowledge that his body contained ghoul organs, and considering how his first and only run in with a ghoul was as pleasant as could be expected, he might not take it well.

Hell, Shinohara didn’t think anyone would take it well.

He got to the hospital, and Juuzou was lounging by the entrance, absentmindedly tossing around their knives. No one looked brave enough to tell him to stop and they all walked hurriedly past them. Shinohara smiled and inclined his head in greeting. “Hello, Juuzou-kun.”

Juuzou perked up and turned their attention to their superior. “So, who’s the corpse?” they drawled. “The one keeping me from the strawberry macaroons?”

Shinohara led the way inside. “You could have brought some with you.”

“Eh.” They flapped their hand as if the wave away an accusation. “You offered, and I like it when you buy them.”

Shinohara wasn’t sure if that was sentiment, or if Juuzou just enjoyed exploiting other people’s money. He chose to think the former, and he chuckled softly. “That aside, we aren’t examining a corpse.”

Juuzou tilted their head. “That’s a shame. So this might take a while?”

Shinohara took a moment to flash his badge and request their victim’s room number before saying, “Not very long. Have you heard about the accident in this area a few days ago?”

Juuzou’s eyes widened in recognition and they gasped softly. “Nope!”

Shinohara shot him a mild glare. Juuzou did enjoy messing with people.

“What?” They asked defensively. “I don’t pay attention to that sort of stuff.”

Shinohara sighed and pressed the elevator button. It opened immediately, and he pushed for floor four. “There were two people in an accident around a construction site. We have reason to suspect that one of them was a ghoul and the other their prey. The ghoul is missing, presumed dead but we don’t know yet, but the boy is still recovering.”

“If it’s missing, why do people think it’s dead?” Juuzou asked as they examined the ceiling

The doors opened and they stepped out. “Because they were listed as dead by the medical examiner at the time, but the body is missing and the doctor has fled,” replied Shinohara.

The two stopped outside their destination, and Shinohara had a sudden sense of foreboding. Juuzou had a tendency to unnerve people without trying. “Juuzou, maybe you should wait out—“

“Awww! Nooo~” They pleaded, their lip sticking out in an over dramatic pout. “You dragged me all the way over here and now you want me to wait outside? I wanna see!”

Shinohara sighed deeply, but he nodded. He had asked Juuzou to come, after all. They rarely wanted to interact with humans, mostly because they couldn’t kill them. Them being interested in the “investigation” side of “ghoul investigating” was something Shinohara wanted to nurture. “Ok, but, please try not to scare him.”

“What about me would scare him?” Juuzou said innocently.

Shinohara resigned himself to damage control after this, but he knocked politely before opening the door.

* * *

 

Kaneki gritted his teeth. He closed his eyes, repeating his mantra; “I must eat. I must eat. I must eat.” Affirmations. Hide insisted they worked, and at this point Kaneki was desperate enough to try.

He slowly and precisely collected a chunk of rice with his chopsticks. It hovered at the entrance of his mouth, almost touching his lips; it smelled fine, it was fine, Kaneki was human, he had to eat.

 He plopped it in his mouth before he lost his nerve, and resisted the urge to spit it out. Glue. It was tacky like a glue-stick and rancid like paint in the same moment. He tried to swallow. He really did. But bile rose up at the back of his throat, and his resolved crumpled. He spat it out, and a thread of saliva followed.

Disgusted, Kaneki scowled and shoved the tray on his bed side table before furiously wiping at his mouth.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Kaneki curled up under his blankets. Kanou hadn’t been by today. He had overheard the nurses say he called in sick that morning. Kaneki wished he were here.

Kaneki had woken up feeling hungry for the first time since his accident, and he felt so relieved. He had thought, foolishly, that maybe he would be able to stomach food.

 He wished vaguely that Hide could visit, but Kanou had insisted that he rest for as long as possible… But Kanou wasn’t here today. It couldn’t hurt to see Hide; he might help Kaneki get over his food issues. It wouldn’t be the first time.

It took a fair amount of pleading on his part, but he managed to get nurse Mikoto to sneak him his phone. She was glad he wanted to interact with people at all. He opened his phone to see far too many text messages and his stomach sunk.

_hey hows the date_

_kaneki u dog u tell me the details_

_bro u wanna meet at anteiku_

_ur not at school is something wrong_

_hey kaneki plz answer im getting worried_

_hey hey hey_

_so ur aunt messaged me she told me 2 make the hospital stop calling her wat hospital plz answer_

_oh god k r u ok?????_

_every1 talking about an accident is that u_

_bro plz text me_

_r u even awake_

_they wont talk to me im not ur next of kin_

_god plz plz plz b ok plz_

 

He was definitely freaking out. Kaneki hastily dial his number, and Hide picked up on the first ring.

“Kaneki!”

Oh.

Kaneki forgot how warm Hide’s voice could make him feel. Some of the tension leeched out of his shoulders, but his guilt remained.

“Yeah, Hide, I’m so sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been really out of it—“

“Oh! No, no, it’s fine, I swear, I just got worried, I mean you didn’t show up to class, and then your aunt calls, just screaming at me—jeez, I can’t stand her, I mean she’s like a harpy—and then I go down but you’re not allowed visitors, they won’t tell me anything, and oh jeez, I am just so glad you’re awake,” he rushed out.

Kaneki didn’t know how to respond for a moment. “Um, well, their allowing me to move a bit now. Maybe they’ll let you in.”

“Nuh-uh,” Hide said. “I called this morning to see, but they still aren’t budging. They must think I’m some kind of journalist.”

Kaneki bit his lip. “I could ask to go down to the cafeteria,” he said slowly. “And we could meet there.”

Hide burst out laughing on the other end, and laughter bubbled out of Kaneki’s chest in return. “You’ve turned all secret agent on me during your time under. Yeah, I’ll head over that way! If they won’t let you down, then I’ll just scale the building using my parkour skills.”

Kaneki snorted. “You took classes for a week and then never went back.”

“It’s all mental, buddy,” Hide said cheerfully. “But, yeah, it’ll take me a few minutes to get there so wait ten before you trick the nurses.”

“Roger,” Kaneki said easily, and when Hide laughed on the other end, he smiled even bigger. He hung up and settled into his bed, feeling more alive. He would get to see Hide. Things already felt a bit better.

There was a knock at his door. The Mikoto-chan would probably want to return his phone before they were caught. He sighed, but the people entering his room weren’t nurses, or even people he knew. One was tall and professional, wearing a suit and a neatly shaved head. The other had wild hair and mismatched clothes, red tattoos on their face and neck.

Kaneki’s brows furrowed. “Hello?” He tried.

The tall man smiled easily at him. “Hello, Kaneki-san. I’m Yukino Shinohara and this is my partner Suzuya Juuzou; we’re investigators at the Commission of Counter-Ghoul.”

Kaneki froze. He was certain his heart had stopped mid beat. “Counter-ghoul?” he said, and the word danced on his skin like anxious static.

Shinohara nodded calmly, but the other one (Juunou?) stared at him like a fascinating insect.

“We believe that the person you were brought in with was a ghoul. Could we talk with you about that?”

Kaneki swallowed. Preformed anxiety exercises in his head. “S-sure.”

Gesturing to the chairs beside his bed, he asked, “May we sit.”

The words tumble out of Kaneki’s mouth automatically, no batteries required. “Of course.”

The two of them pulled up chairs. Red-eyes (Juuko?) sat way to close, propping their elbows up on the hospital bed. Shinohara tapped them on the shoulder and stared at them for a long moment before they sighed heavily and noisily scooted their chair back the same distance as his. They crossed their arms petulantly and slumped, their head rolling around boneless on their shoulders.

Shinohara smiled encouragingly, and then turned back to Kaneki before pulling out a small note pad and pen. He opened his mouth to speak, but Kaneki blurted out, “Ri—I mean, Kamishiro-san was a ghoul?”

Shinohara nodded. “You knew?” It wasn’t accusing. Just a question. Kaneki could answer questions.

“I—yes, I remember her—I just,” Kaneki stuttered. His guts twisted in anxiety. His breath came and went in short gasps. Panic attack, definitely a panic attack. It was so clear in his head.

Shinohara gently cut him off. “Kaneki, we aren’t angry or suspicious. We simply want to know what happened that night. Could you please tell us?”

Kaneki’s heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage, but he slowly nodded, even as he looked away. “Um, we, I mean Kamishiro-san and I met in a coffee shop, and, ah— we were going on a date.” God, those words felt so rancid on his tongue. He swallowed.

“She asked me—to walk her home, and I did and then—she—she kind of—“ The words dragged against his throat like jagged glass and Kaneki’s jaw opened and closed soundlessly. Shinohara waited for him to continue. “I thought I had hallucinated it, or something,” he whispered in explanation.

Shinohara nodded and said, “It’s alright, Kaneki-san. We understand why you may have come to that conclusion. You are not to blame.” Shinohara felt like he was coaxing a rabbit, but he was so used to dealing with Juuzou that it was a bit of a break.

Kaneki was shaking, fine tremors running up and down his body. He still couldn’t bring himself to look at them and his eyes stung painfully.

Then he went still.

“But,” he struggled to say, “The doctor, he—he gave me her organs.”

Shinohara looked away for the first time. “Yes, I’m afraid so. The CCG wants to help you, Kaneki-san. We have arranged an appointment with a few specialists to help you with your case.

Kaneki remained silent for a moment. “Could you remove it,” he said slowly. “The kidney? I don’t want it.”

“I feel like the CCG would accept that, but I can’t make promises,” Shinohara said sadly. “We would appreciate your immediate cooperation. The doctor transferred to your case has approved you for discharge into our care. The sooner we get you into specialized medical care, the sooner we can help you, Kaneki-san.”

Kaneki nodded almost violently and pursed his lips. “Please do,” he whispered.

Shinohara stood up and beckoned red-eyes to do the same. “We will prepare everything.” And they walked out, closing the door behind them.

Kaneki allowed himself to shudder. He could barely breathe past the lump in his throat. Mikoto solemnly brought him a pair of blue scrubs; she reassuringly smiled at him. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her, but she grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. “You’ll be fine, Kaneki-san. You’re a fighter, I can tell.”

She left quickly to give him privacy, and Kaneki couldn’t muster the will to say “Thank you” until after she was long gone.

Juuzou turned to Shinohara as soon as they left the room. “So, can we go to the sweet shop now?”

“Juuzou, no,” Shinohara said. It sounded like he was scolding a cat.

“Ugh, why not?” They whined pitifully.

Shinohara rolled his eyes, but waited until after he had flagged down a nurse to requisition some clothing for Kaneki to answer. “I don’t think Kaneki-san would want any detours.”

“You don’t know that,” Juuzou replied sullenly, puffing out their cheeks.

“I am ninety-nine percent certain.”

“Oh, so there’s a chance he’ll be ok with it.”

Shinohara sighed but didn’t answer as he was suddenly assaulted by discharge forums.

“I was so good in there, though! I didn’t speak or anything.”

“Yes,” Shinohara said distractedly as he signed his name on the many, many signature lines. “You did wonderfully.”

Juuzou glared at and continuously pestered him, but Shinohara had mastered the ability to tune them out.

Juuzou narrowed their eyes and smiled pleasantly. There was a time and a place.

They would get their macaroons.

Shinohara eyed them warily, but Kaneki stepped outside before he could comment. Shinohara had seen corpses with more color.

Kaneki’s eyes had dulled like coal and his hands shook faintly. He refused to catch anyone’s gaze. He held all his limbs close and his hands clenched as if he were pulling himself together by the seams, all curled up and slumped to take up less space. The hospital scrubs he wore nearly buried him.

Shinohara didn’t attempt to make conversation, simply said, “This way,” and lead them to where he had parked his car. Juuzou danced around behind Kaneki, like he was playing his own demented version of hopscotch. If Kaneki noticed, he didn’t comment.

Shinohara didn’t think he noticed.

The all loaded into the car; Juuzou raced ahead to get shotgun. They were situated and peeling out of the parking lot before Juuzou made his move.

“Shinohara-san, can we go to the sweetshop now?” They sing-songed.

Shinohara may have accidentally tapped the breaks a bit too hard. Juuzou had shattered the tense silence in the car like a bull in a china shop. “Juuzou-kun, now isn’t the time.” He said evenly, but he could already feel his future headache.

“Awwww, please, Shinohara-san?” They begged, turning their wide red eyes on him.

“Juuzou-san, we discussed this already.” A definite hint of strain entered his tone. “I will take you aft—“

“I don’t mind.”

Shinohara glanced up into his rearview mirror, surprised. “Ah, no, Kaneki-san, Juuzou-san is just being difficult.”

Kaneki shook his head. “No, really, it’s fine. I wouldn’t want, uh, Juuzou-san to go hungry.”

And it was true.

His mind was in turmoil, like a ravenous ocean battering away at perilous cliffs, each brutal wave the same word (Ghoul, a ghoul, _thereisaghoulinsideme—_ ), throwing up salt spray that scattered any chance for coherent thought.

Other people. That was a lot nicer to focus on. He didn’t want to go back into a hospital setting. He actually wanted to delay that as long as possible, even if he couldn’t get past that mental block.

 _“What if it isn’t mental?”_ A traitorous voice whispered viciously in his head. _“What if you can’t eat because of the transplant?”_

Kaneki stamped it out. Sweet shop, sweet shop…

 _“Besides,”_ he rationalized. _“Kidneys aren’t part of the digestive system. They don’t take up nourishment, they get rid of waste.”_

“Uh, I wouldn’t mind a small detour.”

Juuzou shot Shinohara a smirk.

Shinohara looked uncertain, so Kaneki gave him a final push. “It would be nice to get away from hospitals for a moment.” He rubbed at his jaw. It would be nice for him to not be in this situation, period. He wanted this kidney out. But really, it could wait. They probably couldn’t do surgery immediately either way.

If Juuzou-san was hungry, it was the least Kaneki could do as a thank you for informing him.

And Shinohara sighed, defeated.

Juuzou eagerly said, “Ok, turn here and it’s a few blocks that way.” They looked like the cat who got the cream, smug and smirking.

Shinohara did as instructed. Guilt had tipped the balance in his decision. He understood that this had “Bad Idea” written all over it. He was probably breaking at least seven forms of protocol.

But the boy seemed so distressed. The research department at the twentieth ward wasn’t equipped to deal with this and traffic was heavy in third ward. They could take fifteen minutes and Marude wouldn’t be the wiser.

Shinohara parked.

 Juuzou threw open his door and skipped inside.

Kaneki stepped outside and made sure to close Juuzou’s door. He took a deep breath and trudged inside.

* * *

 

  _ey yo kaneki where u at?_

_im in the cafeteria I got u this weird stuff called oatmeal_

_i tried it its gross_

_bro?_

_i guess they didnt let u come down huh?_

_its fine just call me soon again we can go out and get better food_

 

Hide waited for another twenty minutes, and then he went home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha, yeah, i'm not rewriting everything, but a lot of stuff will change in chapter 4


	3. Delight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a bit short, but don't worry, the action and plot picks up soon.  
> EDIT: MAY 10th   
> Chapter has been edited with different content. Subsequent chapter will not make much sense until it is updated.

The trio walked into Kanki. Its décor was admittedly obnoxious, bright pinks and big-eyed cutesy mascots. There were pastries and tarts, but it mostly consisted of bins upon bins of different candies that people could fill into bags and pay by weight. It was a bit of a tourist trap.

Shinohara saw why Juuzou would like it. There was a frantic aspect to the air, and the store was arranged like a maze that one could lose themselves in.

Juuzou pranced up to the counter and ordered a dozen macaroons. Shinohara eyed the prices as he trailed behind, and sighed tiredly. He could feel his wallet deflating already.

Kaneki kept close behind Shinohara, eyeing the various displays. All the bright lights and fast-paced pop music made him feel dizzy.

“Kaneki-san, would you like something?” Shinohara asked.

Kaneki started. He’d been staring at this weird western desert, cheese cake. It was surrounded by different pitchers of fruit sauces that could be drizzled on top. The strawberry-cherry had caught his eye, but his wallet was with the police as evidence. It would have been too blood soaked for him to pay with anyway. “Ah, no thank you, Shinohara-san. I don’t have any money with me.”

Shinohara shook his head and smiled. “I would be glad to treat you. Juuzou shouldn’t be the only one to get something.”

Kaneki blushed. “I don’t want to impose on you.” He had seen the prices on everything, and Kaneki wouldn’t buy anything that expensive on his own so he couldn’t let Shinohara-san do the same.

_And what if he does? It’s not like you could stomach it._

Kaneki shook his head to dispel those thoughts. Shinohara mistook the action, though, and said, “It’s really no trouble. Would you like the cheese cake?”

Kaneki opened his mouth to insist that Shinohara not trouble himself, but the line behind them was growing, and Kaneki couldn’t really refuse without being rude, and maybe Kaneki felt hungry. Maybe the revulsion he felt when he tried to eat was limited to the hospital and if he just tried again, it would be a weight off of his shoulders.

 He bit his lip but nodded, and the cashier rung it up before cutting him a slice. He poured a liberal helping of the ruby sauce over it and followed Shinohara to the small plastic seating area.

Juuzou was munching happily on their treat, make almost obnoxious noises. Shinohara looked on with an embarrassed sort of fondness.

Kaneki felt like he was intruding.

He sat down. The plastic chair scratched noisily against the floor. Kaneki blanched and ducked his head.

He just had to eat and wait and then CCG would fix him.

His fork sunk slowly into the desert. The sauce looked almost like blood, but the similarity didn’t affect his appetite. His stomach rumbled, actually.

He brought the morsel to his lips, but he hesitated for just a second. He closed his eyes in concentration, but then he bit the bullet.

It was like jumping into cold water; you couldn’t do it slowly.

Except, like jumping into cold water, it wasn’t going to pleasant either way.

Solidified and curdled, rotting milk pasted itself over his tongue and in-between his teeth. Putrid and over-powering. Topped off with the rubbing alcohol burn of fruit. He gagged but sealed his lips frantically. He couldn’t do this, not in public, not in front of ghoul investigators, but that didn’t matter because he had already thrown up.

 Gasping, he glanced up: Juuzou had jerked their desert away and was cradling it protectively against their chest.

Shinohara looked surprised. Not shocked. He was too mild for that.

No one spoke. Kaneki heaved a breath or two, his hand in front of his mouth—the taste of rot lingered in his mouth—before looking away and stuttering out, “I’m so sorry, Shinohara-san. I, uh, haven’t had much luck with food and—“

“That’s a ghoul thing.”

Kaneki’s head snapped up. “What?” he whispered.

Shinohara was placing napkins over the mess.

Juuzou said, “Ghouls can’t eat food.” They squinted at Kaneki and tilted their head. “Are you a ghoul?”

Kaneki numbly heard Shinohara reprimand Juuzou, but he couldn’t focus. His nausea returned full force. Breathing became difficult. A heavy hand clapped his shoulder as reassurance, but when Kaneki looked up, it jerked away.

Now Shinohara looked shocked. Juuzou blinked once and then their face lit up and they started laughing.

“What?” Was that his voice? It sounded so far away.

Shinohara stood up abruptly and grabbed Kaneki’s shoulder. “Kaneki-san, we need to go.” Kaneki managed to stand up, but he stumbled over his feet a few times on the way to the car.

Shinohara was far too tense. Juuzou didn’t claim the front seat and instead sat next to Kaneki in the back. They were close enough for Kaneki to tell he had been mistaken. Those weren’t tattoos. They were stitches.

Kaneki jerked away, wide eyed.

Shinohara was making frantic phone calls in the front. Kakugan?

Kaneki must have whispered the word under his breath, because Juuzou chimed in, “It’s a ghoul eye thing.” They leaned forward and adjusted the rearview mirror. Shinohara was too busy speaking too quickly for Kaneki to understand what he was saying to tell Juuzou to knock it off.

Kaneki glanced at the mirror. It took him several seconds to actually see what Juuzou was talking about. But then he did.

Rize.

Rize’s eyes.

He had one of Rize’s eyes in his head.

Kaneki did what he did whenever he couldn’t handle anxiety anymore. He stayed as still as possible.

Juuzou giggled again. He didn’t stop smiling the whole car ride, which was infinitely too short. It felt like half a heartbeat and then they were peeling into a parking garage.

 Shinohara had called someone the moment they got in the car and told them to get to the CCG 20th branch. Told them to bring anyone and anything that could read medical data.

They shuffled him in through the back. Closer to the research levels, they said. Kaneki knew it was so no one would see his eye. They rushed him through hallways, not quite fast enough to be running, but fast enough that it could hardly be called walking. Kaneki was too terrified to speak, much less protest.

Be silent, his brain said, don’t move a muscle. They won’t notice you.

Shinohara was gone, he had been gone the second they entered the building. Kaneki changed hands like he was some virus being passed around. People who gripped their briefcases too tightly ushered him into an elevator. Down and down they went.

Kaneki wondered if you could reach the underworld through an elevator.

Tests. Doctors frantically preformed tests. They took blood and saliva and hair. Kaneki worried his lip raw in the first twenty minutes. But it didn’t stop after twenty minutes. It went on for hours on hours on hours.

The nausea Kaneki felt when eating food never went away. It stuck around so consistently and constantly he was sure there was something rotting and putrefying inside him. His eye itched constantly, and he rubbed it and picked at it, thought that here must be something stuck in there, but the little ache never went away.

They punctured him with needles, but it was ok because wounds that small closed instantly. No one bothered with bandages after their first try. They didn’t bother to keep their voices down either. They spoke frantically about levels and enzymes and blood composition right next to him.

No one reassured him. They were ghoul researchers with a medical background; bedside manner wasn’t stressed in the job.

They insisted that he try to lift weights; first an easy ten and then in increments up to three hundred. He could barely lift sixty. Everyone was staring at him, and his legs felt so weak. They gazed at him cold and clinical, and Kaneki felt less like a human and more like a grotesque animal in human skin. They just stared.

It took Kaneki a while to notice, but Juuzou was in the room. They didn’t get in the way, but they never took their eyes off Kaneki. They held blades in their palms and occasionally tilted their head in interest. They kicked their feet childishly from where they sat, and the doctors and lab technicians ignored them like any other feature of the room.

The medical personnel entered and left his personal spaced rapidly, checking his heart rate and blood pressure and darting away for something else before another took their place, this time examining Kaneki’s eyes.

One of them instructed him to open his mouth, but grimaced and wouldn’t actually look. Like Kaneki was a rabid animal, like he was going to bite someone—but you want to, do you? Isn’t her neck slender and lovely?

Kaneki kept blanking out and when he did, he heard Rize in his head. His chest hurt. His heart rate just wouldn’t go down, everything around him was so fast—a cyclone of people and words that he only understood half of and pokes and prods that he did not give permission to—and he was in the eye of a storm, numb and aching as all noise and activity was a smudged and dull film playing out except for ragged flares of pain in his stomach— _that thing went **in** you, it **destroyed** you, you were **slop on the inside**._

“—off.”

Kaneki dazedly looked up. Another faceless doctor. “What?” dribbled out of his mouth, over a thick tongue and rubber lips.

“Your shirt,” they snapped, “Take it off.”

Another wave of discomfort slammed over him, and the worming feeling in his gut only intensified. Shame. No, he wouldn’t (couldn’t) do that—No.

The doctor rolled their eyes disdainfully and reached for his shirt, and suddenly the dam that had been keeping all his senses dulled broke and the screeching activity that scrambled around him was something he was a part of, the noise and voices hitting his head like they might puncture his ear drums.

His body—the one he had only been tethered to by dull aches of pain in his chest and sudden flashes of discomfort in his gut—reality unceremoniously shoved him back in and left him with his skin feeling too tight and his limbs too big.

He reeled away from their touch, staggering backwards. He slammed into someone, they dropped their things with a clatter. Everything stopped, everyone turned to stare at him, various degrees of disgust, distrust, annoyance, fear—and the tears Kaneki knew had been a long time coming spilled out onto his cheeks.

 He couldn’t stand it. He had to hide; he bolted for the door his feet bare, stumbling over his own limbs in his in his haste to get away.

An iron grip snaked around his wrist the same instant he tripped over someone’s leg, set and ready to go crashing to the floor, but someone spun them around in a circle and pinned his arms behind his back and shoved him into a wall. “Hi Kaneki-san,” Juuzou chirped into his ear from behind. “You can’t leave, sorry about that.”

Kaneki struggled, and Juuzou simply began pulling one of his fingers back. He stopped moving immediately, but his chest still heaved. “But,” he gasped.

“Nope! No ifs, ands, or buts. Doctor’s orders and all that.” Their voice was so light, lolling up and down, stretching every syllable out in an almost dazed tone. They hadn’t lightened the pressure on his hand.

Kaneki gulped and gave an ugly sniffle, and Juuzou finally released his hand and patted his cheek. “They’ll examine your corpse the same way, so it doesn’t matter if it happens now or later, Kaneki-san,” they said in what might have passed in as a reassuring tone if they didn’t say “corpse” with such excitement. 

Kaneki gritted his teeth, but he nodded slowly. Juuzou smiled. It was so bright and pure that it reminded him of Hide for a moment, before that illusion shattered. Hide wouldn’t smile in this place.

Juuzou led (dragged) him back with a skip in their step and Kaneki’s wrist still trapped in their hand. They stared at him expectantly, that easy smile still on their face. Kaneki shuddered, but he slowly took off his shirt, and the earlier activity resumed without any further pause.

Juuzou sat nearer to him—too close—and Kaneki forced himself to focus on anything besides where he was. He was at Anteiku; he was with his mother, she was smiling and hugging him; he was laughing with Hide; he was reading in his room, there was a light drizzle and overcast sky outside his window.

It didn’t work. He was in a cold, clinical, underground room, exposed to a million strangers as they examined his torso while his jailer watched.

He was a bit glad when they finally sedated him. 

* * *

 

Shinohara decided he did resent Marude right now, because in all honesty, he could not possibly care less about publicity and intelligence leaks. No one in Kanki had gotten video, so nothing could be proven. Marude was just trying to shift blame because it never occurred to the second division with all their ‘brilliance’ that anything like this could have happened.

Shinohara finally just hung up on him. He didn’t have time for this.

He punched in the Director’s office number. The secretary answered.

Shinohara had to argue for a solid five minutes to have his call be transferred because the Director was in a meeting with Arima and had been asked to not be disturbed.

Shinohara didn’t think the director would mind. The secretary was of a different opinion.

He finally got on the line.

“Shinohara-san,” the director greeted cheerfully. “I’ve been informed. Is there any way you could come in?”

Shinohara was already walking into the building. He had been right about traffic in the third ward. By the time he got Kaneki to the twentieth ward office and left him with Hoji, it had cleared up.

“Of course,” Shinohara said.

“I’ll see you then.”

“Of course,” Shinorhara repeated. The line went dead.

“Shit,” he murmured under his breath. He quickened his pace to the elevator. It was a long ride to the fourteenth floor. An office aid shot him a concerned look. Shinohara ignored him. Tapping your foot was a completely healthy coping mechanism for stress.

Shinohara sighed and tried to gather his thoughts. He had done that in the elevator. He was really just procrastinating at this point. He knocked on the door and stepped in when given permission to do so.

Marude was already there.

Shinohara wished he was more surprised, but really he was expecting it. Dreading it, because he really didn’t want to test his patience with him today.

“Good afternoon,” Yoshitoki greeted.

“Shinohara tried for smile and managed a grimace. “Good afternoon.”

Marude looked like someone had spit in his tea and insulted his mother. Shinohara didn’t attempt to say hello.

Arima was sitting down across from the director. Shinohara nodded to him.

God, who knew greetings could be so tense and simultaneously flippant?

“Please, Marude, Shinohara, have a seat.” The director gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. Shinohara settled into his seat.

Marude stalked to his chair and side eyed Shinohara.

Shinohara resisted the urge to gesture rudely at him. Juuzou was rubbing off on him and right now would be the worst possible time to admit it.

Yoshitoki was casually reading from a laptop, occasionally scrawling notes on a sheet of paper. “So, we appear to have a problem,” the Washuu said mildly.

Marude nodded stiffly. “I would say so.”

“Could you explain what happened?” Yoshitoki glanced up and caught Shinohara’s eye. “Marude said something about a detour.”

Shinohara nodded. “At Kaneki’s request, I made a short stop at a store. Inside, Kaneki revealed he had a kakugan. I took him to the 20th branch immediately.” It didn’t sound so irresponsible when he phrased it that way.

Marude gritted his jaw, but he glanced to the side and remained silent. Shinohara took this as a sign that he was not going to throw him under the bus. He appreciated it.

The director tilted his head. “What do you mean when you say he revealed his kakugan?”

Shinohara quickly said, “It wasn’t intentional. He was very shaken up about the experience. I think it manifested due to stress.”

“So it was only in one eye?” Yoshitoki asked for clarification.

Shinohara nodded. “Yes. He also showed an inability to consume human food.”

Marude raised his eyebrows. “And you didn’t kill him?”

Shinohara stiffened in his seat. “Hospital records clearly showed that he was human before his transplant,” Shinohara said with a hidden edge of challenge. “Even if I wasn’t assured of that, he still might have had information on Kanou and therefore would have been more useful alive.”

Marude looked ready to argue, but Yoshitoki cut in, “I appreciate your foresight. The 20th branch has updated me with the information that they’ve gathered insofar.” He glanced back at his laptop and scanned the screen with blank eyes.

It looked out of place with the placating smile on his lips.

“I would appreciate discretion concerning this matter,” he continued with that same easy tone and cool stare. The director scrawled down a few words and then looked up. “Please make sure that this doesn’t reach the public.”

Shinohara didn’t argue. Marude just stared out the window petulantly. They were dismissed.

Arima stayed behind.

Yoshitoki hummed and continued reading. “This was unexpected.”

Arima waited.

The director glanced up. “What would you do?”

Arima tilted his head. It wasn’t phrased as a genuine question. It was more of a musing, as if Yoshitoki could see the entirety of all possible choices, but he couldn’t understand what other people would think.

Arima didn’t really have to consider it. “I would kill him,” he stated plainly. He didn’t really have a preference, anyway. He would kill if ordered to. It wasn’t his concern. 

Many opposing thoughts sifted through his mind and he didn't care to pluck the out the ones he actually meant from the ones he just _thought._ That was nature. That was life. Minds don't need to make sense. They merely exist. Or maybe that was just another thought he didn't mean.

Either way, Arima didn’t entertain the idea that his opinion would have an impact.

Yoshitoki rolled his neck and gazed at the ceiling. He seemed to ponder that idea. He didn’t ask for Arima’s reasoning.

“I think we should conclude our meeting at another time.”

Arima nodded and turned to leave. He paused momentarily at the door way. “What would you do?”  

The Washuu considered him for a second. “I don’t know,” he lied easily.

Arima turned and left.

Yoshitoki once again looked at the headache of emails and files organized across his desktop. It would be unwise to move yet. He should wait until he knew more. He prayed for patience and then made himself swear to hold off on making a hasty decision. At least for three days. He was patient enough for that.

That was the nature of being in charge.

Impulses must be reined in.

Perspectives and placation had to be considered. 

Beaurcarcy and compromise made the world go round, and patience was a virtue—

 

 

 

But, oh, his hands _itched_ with all the possibility laid out in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAY 10th-- Next chapter should be redone by the 10th


	4. Worried and Weary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hide worries and Touka gets pissed off.

Hide spent a lot of time online. He may tease Kaneki about reading, but really, Hide read just as much, if not more than his friend. He went on Wikipedia binges, exploring the interconnections between obscure things. Bitcoin and the Darknet, videogame themes, urban legends, demonology. One time Hide had realize he had somehow ended up on an academic paper discussing the differences between religious and secular Satanism. He had no idea how he got there, but he now had an intimate understanding of demonology.

 He was a decent hacker, so information gathering came easily.

Of course, Hide had more than just obscure interests. He took an entire online anatomy course while he was in high school. He had convinced Kaneki to join him in that one. He could perform sleight of hand magic tricks, most of which contributed to his pick pocketing skills. He knew how to escape handcuffs and how to tie knots. He knew color psychology and actual psychology. He had a tentative understanding on how to make crystal meth, but he probably wasn’t going to try that one anytime soon.

Hide was proud to call himself a jack of all trades. And while he may not have the great love his best friend had for terrible and depressing stories, he did love a good mystery. He liked solving them. “The Case of The Disappearing Kaneki” as he had dubbed it, was his latest detective exploit, and he was very eager to get to the bottom of it. It was on a bit of a different level from finding out who killed the elementary school hamster, or who stole student council’s bake funds, but the same basics applied.

He had done preliminary research the day he realized Kaneki was missing from school. Kaneki was usually pretty good about keeping contact. If he didn’t text back, there was usually something wrong. Then there had been his devil aunt. And the hospital. And when he suddenly ditched their planned meeting, Hide started getting worried. Because, what the hell?

He had already gathered that Kaneki was the infamous and anonymous accident victim. The doctor’s transplant was gaining traction in debate circles. Journalists were trying to hop on the train before it ran out of steam, so Hide was sort of glad the hospital didn’t open their doors to any random person, but, really, it caused a lot of stress.

So, on the next day, when it became obvious that Kaneki was no longer in the building—the front nurse was a really bad liar, jeez—Hide ran by the convenience store and grabbed a few packs of differently colored sticky notes and some push pins. Then he went to work. He cleared a wall and started off with what he knew.

Kaneki went missing after a date with purple haired hottie he met at Anteiku. Turns out they were in a construction accident. Kaneki was in the hospital until yesterday. That wasn’t a lot to start with, but Hide didn’t get discouraged.

 So Hide started with his first question: Why had Kaneki been moved? He wrote that on a regular sheet of printer paper and stuck all the reasons he could underneath it with sticky notes. Too much press over the leading doctor. Security issues. Involvement with crime that required testimony. There weren’t too many Hide thought were reasonable, but he put anything that crossed his mind up there.

Then he moved to the next question: Where could they have moved them? Another hospital. Private residence. This one was another dead end. He needed to not get ahead of himself. He need to go back.

He took the giant map of Tokyo he had above his bed and placed it to the side of the wall. Marked where Kaneki had mentioned he was going for his date. Marked the place of the accident. He frowned. They were way too far away. Kaneki’s apartment was north, and he had ended up on the south side of the 20th ward. That was a potential lead. Was he going back to his date’s place? But, no, why would he be at a construction site?

Hide whipped out his computer, and began shifting through the mountains of news surrounding crime levels in the 20th ward. There had been increased gang violence, but that was more west ward than the construction site. The construction site was a commercial high rise. Maybe the area was resorting to violent efforts to resist gentrification, and Kaneki had simply been unlucky?  The thing that mainly caught Hide’s eye was the locations of several recent murders. A few were labeled as ghoul attacks, and most of them were concentrated in the same area. He tried to look at a few CCG reports, but the public ones were so redacted that they were useless.

Hide almost dismissed that one, but he wrote it on a sticky note anyway.

And so Hide went, putting all his thoughts onto the wall. It kept coming back to purple girl. She was unknown. Hide didn’t remember her name, but Kaneki had met her via Anteiku. That was easily the most accessible of his leads. Hide could visit there tomorrow and make an inquiry.

And if that didn’t turn up any leads, he knew Maru-san from interact club had an older brother who was a police investigator. Hide also knew that he was hopelessly crushing on Sora, who was a sucker for classic romance. It would be pretty easy to help Maru along and get a few favors. He had been meaning to do so anyway, it had just jumped on his priority list.

Exhausted, Hide flopped boneless into bed. Keeping up with all his classes and clubs without Kaneki was a bit draining. Hide grimaced. Maybe he was overreacting. He could be jumping to major conclusions. The way he approached this was almost stalker-like.

Hide tossed and turned, trying to slow his racing thoughts. He could trust his intuition. It nearly never steered him wrong, after all. Hide could put two and two together. That was his talent, the one his mom had always made sure he knew how to use.

And now things weren’t adding up. Something was wrong, Hide knew. The whole situation was sour. But Hide also knew it would be ok. He and Kaneki had been through thick and thin. This was probably chump change in comparison.

Hide hoped. And that was his other talent.

 OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Hide arose bright and early, his alarm blaring him awake. He usually would have sighed and begrudgingly gotten up, but this morning he dashed to the shower and got dressed quickly. He threw on his usually provocatively colored clothing and grabbed his head phones.

The ones Kaneki had gotten him for his birthday last year, even though he was strapped for cash. Hide had to swallow past the sudden lump in his throat, but he snatched his backpack and pushed himself out the door and jumped on his bike.

The ride to Anteiku was quick; it was still early and it had finally started to cool down a bit. He made sure to keep his usually sunny attitude, even if it felt like a cheap Halloween mask. He ambled in and took his usual spot by the window.

There was only one person in the shop. That made sense considering it opened five minutes ago.

The old manager stood behind the counter, deftly preparing different blends. He looked surprised for a moment to see someone in so early, but he easily smiled and greeted him. “Ah, good morning, Nagachika-san. You’re rather early.”

Hide sheepishly laughed. “Good morning as well, Manager-san. I have a paper due tomorrow, so I figured I could marathon write it here. The atmosphere is nice for concentrating.”

The old man nodded, before stepping out behind the counter. Hide noticed that age hadn’t dragged this man down. He was obviously _old,_ you could tell that by his wrinkles and the age in his eyes, but he stood tall with powerful shoulders and he held his head high. He held his arms behind his back, and Hide wondered if he had served in the military. He had the same air of regality as a general. His warm smile and formal apron did nothing to hide that. “What may I get for you?”

Hide answered readily. “A caramel cappuccino with a shot of hot chocolate and a chocolate cupcake.”

The Manager laughed. “I don’t think I’ve made one of those before.”

Hide grinned. “I like sweet things, but if I’m going to get this paper done, I’ll need the caffeine.”

The manager nodded and went back to start Hide’s order. It looked like alchemy from where Hide was standing, with very scary machines frothing at the mouth. The old man made it look as ceremonial and significant as a tea ceremony though, and Hide found himself staring.

“I do enjoy making complicated drinks,” the old manager said. “Even if I don’t enjoy drinking them.” He didn’t look up from the steaming cup, drizzling caramel over it in even strokes.

“No?” Hide asked. “What do you prefer?” It felt a bit nice to discussing something so ordinary. In the absence of the usual bustle of Anteiku felt his mind slow and calm down for the first time in days. The silence here made his own existence and interactions feel vaguely intimate. Not the usual suffocation that made him blare music into his ears.

“I find plain black coffee to my liking,” The manager said as he brought out Hide’s order. “I hope you find this to your liking, Nagachika-san.”

Hide wondered how the old man knew his name, but he disregarded it. He and Kaneki had been regulars at Anteiku for almost a year. Hide had paid with his credit card at least a few times. He was more concerned with how he didn’t know this man’s name. Hide wasn’t going to ask now though. “Thank you, Manager-san.”

The manager slightly ducked his head in acknowledgement, and then went back to the bar. He cleaned and reset the machines he had used to make Hide’s drink and then resumed sorting coffee beans into various tin containers.

Hide was tempted to continue the conversation, but his excuse for being here all day would fall through if he didn’t at least start working on his computer. So, he shifted his snacks to the side and booted up his laptop. He really did have a paper due tomorrow. It was already finished, but it could stand thirty minutes of editing.

He wasn’t going to ask the old man about purple girl. He seemed the type of person that would be disinclined to reveal anything about his customers. Hide would just wait for the young waitress that usually served him and Kaneki. He had seen her serve purple girl that day; Hide could probably get a name fairly easily.

So Hide sat back and edited his paper half-heartedly. And then once he finished that, he moved onto the leads he had gathered for himself last night. He had quite a few.

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Touka had an absolutely shitty day. She was almost tempted to ditch work; call in a favor from Irimi or simply not show up. She threw one more disgusted look at the 47 on her math exam before going back over the page again, feeling more and more stupid.

Why the hell did she put A? Why? What the fuck was going through her stupid fucking head when she did that? That was Touka’s amazing academic talent—after she fucked up spectacularly on the one thing that mattered, she magically gained a heightened understanding of just how fucking stupid she was. It didn’t matter if she studied beforehand. He brain obviously didn’t work during exams.

She rubbed a hand roughly over her face and then tossed the papers spitefully off of the roof of the building she had scaled. Maybe they would cause a traffic accident. One could dream. She checked that her hoodie was secure and hopped the guard rail, plummeting to the ground. Four stories were nothing to a ghoul.

Math on the other hand? Touka pursed her lips before she turned her back on the alleyways that promised to help her let out some steam and began walking towards Anteiku. Who knew if the Manager would put up with her if she didn’t work? He probably wouldn’t be sympathetic if she her excuse was that she went out looking for a fight. Anteiku was a peaceful place. A place that perpetuated peace. Touka was an agent of Anteiku, and if she went around stirring up the ward, she would be doing a pretty shitty job of keeping peace.

But, oh, how her fists _itched_ to bury themselves into some smug bastard’s face.

She could understand why Ayato left. Some days she was tempted to do the same. Acting human felt like paying a penance for a sin that couldn’t be forgiven because no one was ever fucking listening. Touka guessed that qualified as a joke. Fucking hilarious.

She stalked through the crowds of humans and purposefully knocked shoulders with people who didn’t even try to move. The said to watch where she was going. She told them that they could suck it, and often threw in a creative descriptor for variety. Tokyo bustled like a stirred up wasp next, and all the workers were ready to jump their neighbors.

Her foul mood faded quickly once she walked into her place of work and her home. Dampened resignation replaced her anger. It wasn’t like she would ever go to college. Touka wasn’t there for the grades, either way. She was there to play at being human. She flew away from ghouldom, even though she always eventually fell back down into perdition.

God, she was such a fucking pessimist.

Touka nodded to Irimi, before quickly changing in the break room. Today the place was busy, so she should manage to rack up some cash. That made smiling and acting like she wasn’t ready to eat anyone who glanced at her wrong a bit easier. What she would spend it on, she had no idea, but it was always nice to have a safety net. Or, at least a backup safety net, because Touka knew Anteiku was a nice place to have behind you.

She served the various customers, making sure to remember which black coffees contained “sugar cubes” and which didn’t. Once, she mixed up two orders. The results were not pretty.

But today, Touka was completely game; she filled orders quickly, washed the dishes during slowdowns, refused to snap at even the most demanding assholes. She wore mannerisms of a polite, shy, dutiful human girl as well as she wore her own.

Until she got to _him_. Now, Touka usually loved serving this boy. He tipped well, and only bothered to flirt with her when his friend came with him, and even then he wasn’t too much of an asshole. Just a brainless joker. Touka hated those types of mindless and careless people, but he was considerate enough to not leave a giant mess behind at his table, so she tolerated him.

But today, he wanted to _chat._ He took forever to order, and Touka had to revise her opinion of him. He was obviously a plague sent from on high to out her as an evil being because right now she had to resist the urge to snap his neck. His clothes and personality were too damn loud and grating and she suspected he was wasting her time on purpose.

“And I was surprised, this morning, you know? The weather just kinda blew in overnight and the heating in my apartment sucks, but I figured, ‘Hey, this place is always great’ so I biked over. I mean, your coffee is great on any occasion, but especially on rainy days like these—“

“Thank you, sir.” Touka carefully regulated her voice. “What would you like to order?”

Her customer blanched and chuckled embarrassedly. “I’m sorry, I guess you’re busy.”

 _“Damn right I’m fucking busy. When the hell am I not?”_ Touka grouched internally even as her mouth spilled out some mindless platitude.

The guys face crumpled and Touka reeled back, alarmed. “My best friend’s just been, well, he picked up a girl here and he’s kinda been ignoring me for her, so I was hoping he or she would be here, but they haven’t showed up all day.”

Oh fuck. And this is the boy who was probably going to be going to a funeral in a few days. If they even found the body. “Um, I’m sure your friend will be fine.” God fucking damn it, what the fuck was she saying? “Kamishiro-san has a, uh, habit of dumping her dates after about a week.”

 Holy fuck, why, why, _why_ did she say that? She gave this idiot hope and it was going to get massively crushed.

The boy just looked outraged. “What?! Who does that?”

Touka shrugged as she internally berated herself. Fucking shit. Rize _knew_ that customers were off limits! She had seen them. Had seen her, and kept on walking. Put the both of them completely out of mind. Turned her fucking cheek like she always did because what leg did a murderer like her have to stand on. Why hadn’t Touka interrupted her? Was she really that cold? That she just stood by and said some meaningless prayer?

But, no.

Touka wasn’t a hero. Saving one boy would do nothing. There would always be another human, with heartbroken friends and family. And it wasn’t Touka’s job to change that. She protected her family. Or at least tried to. Anything else was stupid.

“That’s not ok! Kaneki is sensitive about girls, and this girl is just stringing him along? What’s her name? I need to talk to her.”

Holy fuck. Now this was just fucking depressing. See, Touka? This is why you don’t try to be kind. You kill people when you do. This boy was going to up and confront Rize and die. She spluttered, “Uh, I don’t think—“

But then he started pleading. And then he wouldn’t stop. Refused to quit wasting her time. Touka got annoyed. Whatever. Fucking sue her. It wasn’t like Rize’s name would be in the fucking phone book. So she told him. And he got off her case. Ordered a cappuccino to go. Left a giant fucking tip.

Touka took her break soon afterwards.

Koma teased her the second she waked in the door. She just couldn’t catch a fucking break.

“Ah, why the long face, Touka-chan? Any boy problems?” That was Koma’s unique brand of mockery. He knew she hated romance.

“Yes.” Koma spit out his coffee. “A guy out there just had his best friend eaten by Rize,” She snapped and threw him a disgusted look. “And I had to deal with his bullshit sadness.” Koma at least had the decency to look embarrassed, but Touka wasn’t in the mood to go easy on him. “Tell me why she is here again? Why the fuck the manager is so inclined to allow a trouble maker in the ward?”

_Why is she here when you practically drove out my brother for the same?_

Koma sighed. “Look, Touka-chan—“

“Cut the bullshit,” Touka hissed.

Koma shrugged. “She’s running from something. Not just the CCG, or we would have run her off. I didn’t ask. I trust Yoshimura’s judgement.”

Touka scoffed through clenched teeth. “What a fucking glutton.”

Touka went back to work, and this time, her foul mood refused to leave. It lingered in her lungs and in her blood, made her words clipped and tone harsh, her stare menacing and her expression ugly. She bared her teeth at any inconvenience, but she got through her shift without snapping and killing anything. She didn’t get many tips.

She stomped to her room and threw on her fighting clothes. Grabbed her mask. Didn’t bother with the wig. It wasn’t like she was out to kill doves.

Yoshimura raised his eyebrows at her as she brushed past him in the basement. He had a bit of cold blood splattered across his wrinkled face. A corpse lay on the stainless steel counter top. The manager had already separated the limbs; they were laid out neatly at the edge of the counter, glossy cartilage peeking out at the top of the terminated thigh, blood dripping off the gently slopped surface into a bucket. She shivered. From excitement or cold, she couldn’t tell.

_Plop, plop, plop…_

Touka’s gut stirred appreciably and she licked her lips. However, she didn’t pause. What was the point of eating right now? She was aiming to tire herself out. “I need to blow off some steam,” she muttered.

Yoshimura sighed deeply but nodded. “Please be careful.”

Touka just barely refrained from throwing him a look of disgust. “If I die, make sure Koma doesn’t touch my stuff.”

Of course, what stuff would Koma even want of hers? Touka packed a light existence. She found solace in the stability of Anteiku, but it didn’t change her baser instincts. She was a street brat ghoul who was ready to run at the drop of a hat. Everything she owned could fit in a back pack.

Being tied down gave her anxiety.

 Maybe that’s why her happiness felt so fleeting.

Yoshimura didn’t laugh at her tasteless joke. He nodded, and returned to preparing their food. Anteiku was industrious. Every part of the body got used. They had a lot of customers to feed. Even with Japan’s suicide epidemic, keeping a ward full and happy was a hard pressed task.

_Plop, plop, plop…_

Touka tore her eyes away from the corpse and stalked towards the underground. Didn’t flinch when she heard the sharp _snap_ that signified the manager cracking open the sternum to get to all the delicate organs that the ribs were meant to protect. She just licked her lips.

It exhausted her. Playing nice all fucking day. Indulging humans who were clueless and careless, who complained about their absolutely wonderful lives? Touka even got annoyed with Yoriko from time to time.

Of course, the only reason Yoriko liked Touka was because she constantly lied. Yoriko wouldn’t call Touka her best friend if she knew. She would turn her in. Alert the CCG and kill her without a second thought. Touka hated that she had to remind herself of this. She despised that sometimes she wanted to blurt the truth out. She loathed that she dreamed of Yoriko making her meals that she enjoyed.

What a fucking joke.

Because Touka also dreamed of being lawless and unbound by anything. Guilt or conscious. Just free to fly and fight and feed. She wanted both things at the same time, and she could have neither. Not as long as she was at Anteiku.

_Plop, plop, p l o p . . ._

So, as she rushed through the crawling and desperate tunnels of the underground, looking for trouble and conflict, she didn’t have to think about why Ayato left her behind.

She understood fucking perfectly.

  _Plop._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, I'm sorry this is so late. Finals kicked my butt, but at least I now have a working outline of the plot for this fic, so we can expect a bit more direction. I'd like to dedicate this too all who commented and reviewed, especially to NoToLogins for their consistent and meaningful encouragements, and SecondState and Lily for their complements when I really needed them. All of yall got me through a rough week, so thank you again!
> 
> EDIT 12/26: I'm sorry, yall. This chapter is a hard one and I'm trying to get it out but it is taking a while, especially since its christmas time and I'm spending it with the fam. I edited this chapter and gave Touka a lot more content, which I hope you enjoy. I can't really give you an ETA as to when I'll complete chapter 6, so consider this to be a hiatus until the new year. I'm going to try and complete this arc by the end of January, so the wait will probably 2-3 weeks


	5. Settlement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Yes, this is very late. I'm admittedly sheepish over how late it is, actually. School got in the way, so updates will be a bit slower from now on. However! This chapter and the next will sort of wrap up the first "arc" of my story! So I will try and get it out before the end of January!

Kaneki woke up exhausted in another hospital room with light stabbing at his eyes and noise blaring in his ears. He didn’t have time to ponder how or why. A stack of clothes were shoved into his arms, and a stranger told him to get dressed. They then left the room before he could ask any questions.

Kaneki pulled on the outfit he was given. It wasn’t his clothing, but all the articles were his size. Dark grey slacks and a white button-down shirt with a jacket. Formal. It even came with matching shoes, which Kaneki actually liked. He might keep those if he didn’t have to return them.

After he had dressed, Kaneki took a deep breath before quietly knocking and exiting the room. The same stranger stood in the hallway. Kaneki could feel them appraising him. He couldn’t meet their eyes, but he did manage to mumble a polite greeting.

The man nodded and replied in kind before gesturing down the hallway. “I’m here to escort you to your meeting. Please follow me.” He turned and began walking easily.

Kaneki scrambled to follow. He tried to make conversation a few times, just to lighten the atmosphere, but none of his attempts were really successful. His escort didn’t feel rude. Just quiet. Distant. Kaneki didn’t take offense. He wouldn’t usually be trying to make conversation either.

After ten very awkward minutes, most of which were spent on a very busy elevator, the man showed Kaneki to a door, politely bowed and wished him a good day before leaving without ceremony. His nerves were gnawing at him, but Kaneki took a deep breath and knocked lightly.

Not lightly enough, because the person on the other side called out, “Please come in.”

God, Kaneki didn’t want to do this.

He really, really, did not want to do this.

In fact, he wanted to be as far away from the CCG as humanly possible, but here he was; stuck fourteen stories up in what he determined was the First ward’s office. He had glimpsed that during one of their stops. He had been buried deep in the earth and the elevator had taken just as high.

Kaneki slipped quietly through the door. The office was big. Spacious and neatly decorated with a beautiful view of the Tokyo skyline. It was early morning. How long had Kaneki been here? It felt like a lifetime and then some.

A man sat behind a large and strangely messy desk. He beckoned Kaneki over with an easy smile. “Hello, Kaneki-san. Please, have a seat.” There were two chairs in front of the desk. Dark polished wood, just like the desk. Expensive. Looking at them just reminded Kaneki of how long it had been since he had showered. Would he leave oily marks wherever he touched?

It felt like he would. He wasn’t cut for things of a finer taste. All he owned were hand me downs. Old clothes that swamped his thin frame and this one suit that fit so well it made him nervous.

Kaneki scurried to sit as instructed. He wrung his hands, didn’t let his back touch the back of the chair. He hated the texture of these clothes. They felt wrong. He glanced up just once. The man stared back at him and Kaneki couldn’t bring himself to hold eye contact. His eyes darted to the walls and the painting that donned them. Kaneki studied them studiously and frantically. Except they were just more of the same face.

Well, not precisely the same. Similar, though. Family, perhaps.

The silence stretched for far longer than needed. A good two minutes. Kaneki still didn’t know this man’s name and he seemed to not feel the need to introduce himself. Just simply started talking without preamble.

“Well, Kaneki-san, I suppose you might like some answers.”

No. He just wanted to go home and pretend this never, ever happened.

He wanted to eat.

But he couldn’t say those things. So he merely nodded. Glanced nervously at them man. Saw that same penetrating stare. Quickly averted his gaze. Listened intently.

“Dr. Kanou transplanted into you what is known as a kakuhou. This is an organ that only ghouls possess. It stores and directs RC cells and produces specific enzymes designed to help with the digestion of human protein.” The man lectured evenly, explaining and mapping out Kaneki’s new biology. His new dietary needs. Kaneki understood that it was a massive simplification, but he knew enough about anatomy to come to his own conclusions.

Carbs were now poisonous. This “kakuhou” acted like a liver and entire endocrine system. Heavily linked to the lymphatic and nervous system. Virtually controlled his digestion and could affect his brain. Manufactured hormones and directed them. Could signal other portions of his body directly through the parasympathetic nervous system and circulatory system. It wormed into every single part of him.

It was like a parasite. Complete removal would kill him. Without the regeneration factor offered by a kakuhou, he would die. If any portion was left behind, it would regrow. At least, that’s what research has shown. It might work differently on a human.

 But that wasn’t all.

“We have also determined that you can manifest a kagune, which is the biological predatory weapon of ghouls. This muddles your status as a member of the human-ghoul species binary.”

Kaneki jerked. Couldn’t find his voice. Stared wide eyed directly at this man, who, for the first time, wasn’t looking directly at Kaneki. He was monologing to empty air.

The man continued. “Taking all this into consideration, the CCG has decided—“

“I’m human,” Kaneki blurted out.

The man turned to him with raised eyebrows.

Desperation leaking into every syllable, Kaneki’s spluttered and rambled, “I’m not a monster, I swear. I would never eat someone, sir, I—“

The man kindly cut him off. “I know that, Kaneki-san. Shinohara-san has told me that you appear to be a very kind person.”

Kaneki opened his jaw, but nothing would come out.

Those words didn’t reassure him.

He sounded far too sad for anything he said to be good news.

“However, the fact remains that you have the appetite and predatory potential of a ghoul. You’ve been labeled a security threat.”

And that was when Kaneki knew he was going to die.

“We can’t allow you to remain unsupervised. The CCG has a facility designed to contain ghouls and to provide for them. Considering the prominent faction that is calling for your participation in counter-ghoul research, I think this would probably be the safest option for you. Your existence might make you a target to other ghouls, so it would have to be kept quiet.” The man sighed tiredly.

Oh.

That was decidedly worse than death.

Kaneki tried not to think, tried not to imagine that life, but he couldn’t help it. It flashed through his brain and all he could see was crippling loneliness and isolation. He couldn’t do that. He felt isolated when he was surrounded by people.

“I—I can’t,” Kaneki mumbled. “I need to get home and feed my cat.” Lies. Kaneki didn’t have a cat. He was allergic. He ducked his chin and suddenly needed to do something with his hands. Went to bite his nails but terminated the motion and ended up rubbing at his face. “I have school. I need to finish a paper.”

The man looked at Kaneki with something like pity.

“I’ll see to it that your school is informed and your cat is taken care of.” The man pulled out a cell phone and started dialing a number.

No, no, no.

There were only so many breakdowns a person could have in a two day period, but the universe just liked pulling the rug out from under Kaneki.

At least he had a rope to grab.

“Another option,” He gasped suddenly, breaking the tense silence. “You said that was the safest option. What were the others?” He was grasping at straws, but Kaneki wasn’t above begging.

The man glanced up from his phone. Tilted his head and considered him. “Well, Cochela was the compromise the CCG had settled on—and it was a bit of a hard fought compromise, mind you—but the other choice would be for you to work for the company. You would have to move to the first ward and submit to regular checkups.”

“Yes,” Kaneki all but shouted. “I can do that.”

The man didn’t look convinced. “You would have to be a ghoul investigator. Use your ghoul attributes to assist in investigations.”

Nodding frantically, Kaneki repeated desperately. “Yes, yes, that’s fine.”

“You could be in danger. You could die.”

“I don’t care.”

And he didn’t. Not in this second. Because while going up against monsters was horrifying, Kaneki would rather do that a thousand times over than be left to decompose in isolation until he was forgotten.

He couldn’t fight. The CCG would see that and then there would be no need for them to see him as a threat. He just had to show them he was harmless. He would be fine. He would have to be. He had his rope.

He just had to not strangle himself with it.

The man stood up and paced a bit, mulling over the decision. Kaneki watched his silhouette cut back and forth across the back drop of those floor to ceiling windows. And Kaneki prayed. He wasn’t religious, but pleaded silently with anyone who might be listening. He didn’t know what else to do.

Suddenly, the man turned and considered him closely. “If you really do prefer this, Kaneki-san, then I will allow it.”

Kaneki had never felt so relieved.

The man sat back and introduced himself as Director Washuu. He discussed the finer points of Kaneki’s employment. “The CCG employs a mentoring system. New field investigators are paired with senior officers to gain experience. Usually a person becomes a rank 2 investigator after graduating from a CCG academy, but in special cases such as yours, a trainee can bypass that and go to being a direct rank 3 operative.”

 Washuu retrieved a stack of papers from his desk and flipped through them, still speaking. “The possibility of employment was mentioned in passing, but many didn’t think it was a viable option. I had specialized forms drawn up beforehand.” He held out a thin packet. “For the most part, everything is standard issue. The only edition is an add-on that pertains to your feeding compensation and your willing submission to monitoring until otherwise notified.”

Kaneki bit his lip. It was only eight pages. He flipped through it and most of the information was already filled in. He just had to check a few boxes and sign each page. He went through the entire packet silently and thoroughly. They had a funeral service listed among the benefits.

Kaneki accidentally punctured the paper while checking that particular box. He skimmed the last page. Bi-monthly feedings that were a part of his payment. He had to occupy an apartment in the first ward. Kaneki closed his eyes and quickly scratched his name.

He stiffly handed the packet back to the director, who placed it in a red folder. The director stood up and beckoned Kaneki to follow him. Kaneki took a deep breath before standing and trudged after him.

 

* * *

 

Director Washuu personally drove Kaneki to his apartment. Tried to make him feel welcome. He succeeded. Just a little. Kaneki was still wary of him, but. . .

Well, the way Washuu had talked about the CCG made it seem so—nice? Bearable? Like Kaneki would have a chance to make friends?

Kaneki sighed. He didn’t know.

It just felt like there was less of a hole in his stomach when his thoughts strayed toward the future.

His apartment was nice. Washuu left quickly, citing meetings and such. Handed him a bag with a few sets of an office uniform, said someone would pick him up in the morning. It gave Kaneki some space to settle down. In his new home. New life.

The first thing he did was shower off the stress of week. He scrubbed at his skin with a washcloth, and let all his thoughts slough off him like thick oil. They would come back and weigh him down, but for now he just drowned himself in the feeling of hot water raining and streaming down his face.

He didn’t know how long he spent in there. Long enough. He actually felt some semblance of cleanliness and levity. It was hard to tell because of how sluggish he felt, but he knew it was just tiredness.

Shaking his head, Kaneki changed and then tentatively figured his way around the apartment. The walls were stark white and a back room had giant windows that sunshine streamed through. Light wooden floors. The kitchen was nice, if a bit pointless. Washuu said it was his to decorate as he pleased. There were a few catalogs sitting on the kitchen counter, and Kaneki idly flipped through them for a moment before a wave of homesickness slammed into him.

He missed his shitty apartment and its cramped bathroom and ugly couch. He missed his books. There was a bookshelf in the living-sort-of-room. Nothing was segmented here. The living room blurred into the kitchen, which blurred into what he thought might be a dining room.

 It made it seem more spacious, but Kaneki liked things cozy. Crowded, perhaps. This was entirely too modern and had obviously never been lived in. It was just an empty husk with no memories.

When he found the backroom, it was a relief. It was small. Probably intended to be a study. One small window with very good shutters. Kaneki stood for a moment, and then strode to the large bookshelf in the living room, filled with determination, grabbed one corner, and _heaved_.

He nearly threw it across the room. Ok. So it was lighter than it looked. Kaneki frantically scrambled to keep it from crashing to the floor, an embarrassed blush arising on his cheeks. He was a bit less sporadic with his next effort, and he moved the bookshelf into the tiny study. And then the futon, which he made into a bed, and one the chairs from the dining room.

He flopped onto the mattress in his new bedroom. It was still too bright. He had to fill the shelves, find a place to store his clothes, paint the walls a less blinding color, but it was a start. It wasn’t paradise, but maybe, Kaneki thought with a rare sense of optimism, that it could come close. Maybe he would find something in the CCG that he lacked. He knew he lacked a lot of things. Too many to name. Too many to think about right now.

The apartment. He could think about that, though.

It didn’t come close to all the late nights Hide and he had spent watching stupid movies or destroying the kitchen when Hide had found a recipe or the quiet days where they just sat back to back and would talk about stupid and wonderful things.

Not even close.

But. . .

It was a start.

* * *

 

Kaneki rolled over, slowly blinking through the darkness. He licked his lips. He need water. He didn’t want to get up.

That was a tragic problem and he saw no solution at all. None. He would just have to suffer.

“Suffer,” he yawned as he turned over again and shut his eyes. Yep, he was fairly certain that was the only option.

He welcomed back the relaxation of sleep, but just at the edge of consciousness, he heard a light bump. And then another. Come to think of it, there were a lot of these taps and knocks occurring. How curious. He yawned again and shifted a pillow on top of his head to block out the sounds.

Oh?

A bell? Why would there be a bell ringi—

Oh.

That would be a door bell. And those taps were probably someone knocking out the door.

Ah.

Kaneki threw himself out of bed and stumbled blindly out of his room. Why did everything have to be so bright? He turned the wrong way exiting his bedroom and had to hurry back the other way.

He threw open the door, still bleary eyed. And, yes, there was someone standing outside. Who had probably been waiting at least, what, two minutes? Kaneki wilted. It was more like five.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “please forgive me; I was napping and didn’t hear you.”

The man outside his door didn’t look impressed. “You’re dressed,” he stated.

Kaneki furrowed his brow until the meaning clicked. “Ah, yes, I fell asleep with them on.” Oh, god, why did he admit that? “I mean, um, is there something I can help you with?”

The man nodded. “I’m here to escort you to the office.”

Kaneki smiled awkwardly. “Um, I thought you weren’t due until tomorrow?”

The man glanced at him up and down, before staring at Kaneki expressionlessly. “You’ve slept all night.”

Kaneki jerked in surprise, but before he could say anything, the man turned and walked away. Kaneki reddened and tugged on the shoes he had left by the door, and scrambled after the man. “I’m so sorry,” he said, distressed. “I really didn’t mean—“

The man held up a hand and shook his head. “It’s fine. Please set an alarm next time.”

Kaneki’s teeth clicked shut and an embarrassed grimace tugged at his face.

“I’m Take Hirako. Please call me Hirako-san.”

“Ken Kaneki,” Kaneki mumbled. “Um, I prefer Kaneki-san, please.”

Hirako nodded. They fell into an odd silence as they walked to the office. Kaneki tried to memorize the route, but he examined Hirako as he did so. He looked, well, bland. Not in a bad way. He just didn’t really stand out and his lack of expression didn’t give Kaneki any clues as to what they would be thinking.

They entered the building, and Take nodded politely to some coworkers. Kaneki fell further into step behind him, trying to avoid all the curious glances sent his way. It was all great until they reached a scanner of some sort, and Hirako veered off course to casually jump the waist high barrier that separated the rest of the building. Then everyone’s eyes flicked towards them.

Kaneki froze, and he tried to avoid attention, so he forced himself to move and started to walk through the scanner, but Hirako shook his head and inclined his head towards the barrier. Kaneki gritted his jaw and closed his eyes. Everyone was staring at them, but he mechanically forced his legs to take him to the low wall and tried to cross it while maintaining some semblance of dignity.

He didn’t really succeed.

“Waist-high” for Hirako was a bit of a different story for Kaneki, who was fairly short.

Still, they got through and were only stopped by several investigators who all gripped their briefcases tightly and narrowed their eyes at Hirako, who showed no reaction to the sudden wave of animosity directed his way. He greeted them by name and introduced Kaneki.

“R.O.S,” Hirako said, and though it made no sense to Kaneki, the other investigators nodded and suddenly looked uncomfortable. They dispersed quickly after that.

Hirako walked with his head high, not a sign of embarrassment or care marring his face.

Kaneki couldn’t say the same.

Kaneki followed Hirako silently and didn’t dare look up. Not until they reached a bright room, fairly large, with heavily padded floors and a floor to ceiling mirror on one of the walls. There were a few mats and weights in one corner.

Hirako shrugged of his jacket and hung it on one of the pegs on the wall, and Kaneki tentatively followed suit.

“I was told you might need fighting instruction,” Hirako said as he kicked off his shoes, and gestured for Kaneki to say the same.

Kaneki nodded hesitantly and volunteered, “I don’t really know anything about fighting.”

Hirako glanced at him. “None?” he asked for clarification. “Any sports or clubs that might translate?”

Kaneki shook his head. Hirako nodded. “That’s fine.”

“Um, excuse me, Hirako-san? Are you my teacher or, um, partner?” Kaneki asked, because if this was his mentor, he had made the worst possible impression he could have.

“No." Hirako paused before adding, "At the moment, I am your ‘coach.’”

Why did that sound really threatening?

* * *

 

“So?” Director Washuu asked. “How is he faring?”

Hirako glanced through the glass portal of the door. Kaneki was still wheezing on the floor.

“He’s not very impressive.”

Washuu laughed. “It’s his first day. I wasn’t expecting a miracle.”

Hirako sighed. “He doesn’t want to be here.”

Washuu tilted his head. “He asked to be.”

“I’m still not sure what you opened your conversation with if that is the case. He’s unfocused and hesitant. He completely lacks the temperament for this job.”

Washuu frowned slightly. “Please, give it a week or two. He has no experience and he hasn’t had the easiest week. I trust you can help him.”

Hirako shot him an unimpressed look. “I don’t think a week will be enough time for him to be competent.”

The director said evenly, “I’m not asking for competence. He may be an investigator at the moment, but I don’t foresee him taking missions anytime soon.”

Hirako’s annoyance leaked through only through a slight narrowing of his brows and a hint of terseness in his voice. “I was making developments in the clown case. If all you wanted was a fitness instructor, you could have handed him over to an academy personnel.” Or, a person not on active duty. Or a person with minimal experience in teaching people. Or a person emotionally equipped to deal with such an anxious person.

The Director inclined his head. “That would cause suspicion. I’m trying to keep his situation quiet until he gets more comfortable with it. I can’t imagine how hard it would be to feel welcome if people allowed their preconceptions to sour potential relationships.” He looked up and craned his neck slightly to look at Kaneki through the small window in the door. “Hence the individual dojo. Also, good thinking on the RC gate. That could have been traumatic.”

Hirako merely nodded, and glanced at Kaneki. He was moving once more, which was good. Still obviously exhausted, but trying.

 The director patted Hirako on the shoulder and smiled reassuringly at him. “I only ask for two weeks. Then, take him on a small investigation. If you still despise him, I won’t ask again.”

“I don’t despise him,” Hirako said.

“If you still have reservations,” the director corrected, “then I’ll assign him to someone else. But I think you would be a good teacher for him.”

Hirako didn’t accept the compliment and the director either didn’t expect him to or simply took it in stride exceptionally well. They exchanged farewells and the director departed. Hirako took a steadying breath and then rejoined his “student.” And he drilled. More footwork. More stances in quicker and quicker succession. More sprints and more pushups. More and more and more.

Hirako knew how to ask for more than someone thought they could give. He learned that from the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I think this is my longest chapter, coming out to about 4000 words or so. I may go back and edit my story because as much as I love detail, I'm beginning to see that brevity is the soul of wit and that many readers will probably appreciate more action and plot a lot quicker. I'll probably post the original raw work on FF and just update all my stuff on ao3 at the end of each "arc." I'm going to set up a tumblr dedicated to tokyo ghoul and yall can ask me stuff there, but, until then, my personal tumblr is intent2stay and anyone is welcome to ask about the story there or in the comments!


	6. A Fool Full of Oil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaneki hadn't had nightmares in a while. The introspection is a twist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so many swords. Seven, I daresay. Magicians are few and far in between. Chariots can't get very far without black and white.

Kaneki enjoyed routine. College life was difficult, but there was a definite structure to it. He filled all of his free time in very predictable ways. He had a weekly cycle that he stuck to. Habit reigned supreme for Kaneki.

Even though his new routine was exhausting, it was very methodical and structured: Wake up, walk to the CCG with Hirako, spend three to four hours in the tender mercies of his merciless instructor, take a shower while Hirako broke for lunch, assist in office work and learn the ropes of investigating, spar with Hirako in the evening, return home exhausted and bruised, shower once more, go to sleep, and then wake up and do it once more.

Very predictable. It filled every waking hour and then insured that he was so tired by the end of the day that he had no time for anything else. Kaneki didn’t resent the CCG for that. He actually appreciated it. If he could only focus on his dread of his next work out, if became a lot easier to ignore why he was constantly exerting himself. It became a lot easier to not fiddle with a useless eyepatch. It became a lot easier to lose himself and _not_ think.

Like now. Kaneki ducked frantically to avoid a lightning-fast punch to his jaw, only to drop right onto Hirako’s raised knee. The blow nearly knocked him off his feet, and he staggered backwards blindly, until Hirako neatly swiped his feet out from under him.

“You’re still falling into obvious traps,” Hirako sighed. He stared down blankly at Kaneki. “Get up, and try again.”

Kaneki blinked back tears at the ache in his jaw, and slowly pushed himself to his feet. Panting, he raised his hands once again and tried to place his feet like he had been told. He warily eyed Hirako, who wasn’t even sweating. Kaneki still couldn’t get a very good read on him, but he looked disappointed.

Hirako slipped into Kaneki’s range, but instead of aiming for his head or knocking him off balance with a few well-placed kicks, his dismantled Kaneki’s defensive stance with a few heel-strikes. Kaneki could see the punch soaring towards his face, and he flinched, his eyes slamming closed against his will.

The explosion of pain never came. Hirako rapped his knuckles on Kaneki’s forehead. It tickled more than anything. Kaneki snapped his eyes open to see Hirako’s unimpressed gaze.

“What good comes from closing your eyes?” Hirako said. It wasn’t really a question.

Kaneki blanched and lowered his head in shame. “Nothing,” he mumbled.

Hirako sighed and stepped back. “You can’t always be on the defensive, Kaneki-san. Please make the first attack this time.”

Kaneki tensed and hesitantly shifted into his stance. Hirako flowed into a defensive position, and waited patiently. Or impatiently. Kaneki had a hard time telling.

Taking a steadying breath, Kaneki quickly stepped in and made a simple jab, which Hirako lightly knocked away. Kaneki quickly disengaged. He had made it his main goal to avoid being hit if at all possible. He was failing, but it wasn’t for lack of trying on his part. He created distance between the two of them and tried to see some sort of opening. Even as he did, Hirako shook his head.

“Kaneki, you aren’t experienced enough to try analyzing stances for weaknesses. Even if you were, you don’t know how to capitalize on them,” Hirako explained. “I want you to focus purely on attack moves and try to get through my defensives.”

Kaneki grimaced. He _knew_ he wouldn’t even get close. He cautiously stepped in, though, and tried to. He threw jabs and kicks, but none would connect. Hirako dodged them gracefully or would simply misdirect Kaneki’s more forceful punches with a guiding hand and throw his form into turmoil.

Kaneki had learned his lesson from the last few days though; he scrambled back into the correct stance and returned to his sloppy attacks. Punch, punch, tried for a low kick which turned into an awkward step and jumped back into formation. Tried to weave around his defenses with a wide punch, only for Hirako to grab his wrist and lightly yank him so that he somehow both fell out of form and turned his back to his opponent.

Kaneki felt a light whack at the base of his spine, and he clumsily jerked away.

“If that was a kagune, you would be dead,” Hirako reminded. “Never give your back to the enemy.”

And then Hirako reengaged and forced Kaneki to keep up his attacks, even as his breathing grew rougher and his movements grew sloppier. Occasionally, Hirako would reach in and tap Kaneki’s nose, his solar plexus, the side of his neck. Just to remind Kaneki how out-matched he was.

When Kaneki did land a direct hit, it was because Hirako stepped into it purposefully. Kaneki didn’t even see the leg that swiped his feet out from under him and sent him sprawling to the ground. His head collided with the ground. Even with the padding, it was painful.

Hirako glanced at his watch.

6:30

“It’s late. We’ll pick back up tomorrow.” Hirako turned away to get his coat, and left quickly.

Kaneki groaned and laid panting on the floor for a few moments before he dragged himself to his feet and stumbled home. He forced himself to shower even through his exhaustion, and he could see lovingly dappled bruises blooming up and down his entire body.

Like flowers or necrosis. He could barely keep his eyes open, and Kaneki fell onto his bed and into the tender embrace of easily forgotten dreams.

Hirako pursed his lips and glanced at the time again. He was actually ahead in his investigation. The other members of his squad were gracefully willing to cover for him, but there was no need. Despite all his lack of fighting aptitude, Kaneki was surprisingly helpful in investigative work. He was painfully shy and had trouble voicing his ideas, but he made connections that Hirako didn’t expect for a rookie.

He ran errands quickly, paid attention and respect to everyone (perhaps a tad more than was due), and kept himself busy. If he was that focused in fighting, Hirako knew he would be making more progress.

Hirako wasn’t sure how to do that. Make him focus. He tried sparring. That should encourage focus on his part: if he focused, Hirako was far less likely to hit as hard or as often. But it didn’t. Kaneki just did the bare minimum to ensure he didn’t endure any unnecessary pain. It felt like he had already resigned himself to suffering and wasn’t willing to go any further to avoid it.

It confused and frustrated Hirako, mostly because he couldn’t understand that mindset.

His musings were rudely interrupted by someone calling his name.

“Take!”

Hirako turned towards Ui, who seemed cheerful. Arima trailed after him.

Hirako nodded to each of them. “Ui-san, Arima-san, nice to see you.”

Ui grinned at him. “I was hoping you’d still be here. Arima-san and I were going to get dinner; would you like to join us?”

Hirako could use some leisure time. Kaneki was giving him a headache. “Sure. Did you have anything in mind?”

And that was how, an hour later, Hirako found himself complaining to a drunk Ui and Arima about his student in an expensive curry shop. Hirako must have been tipsy himself. He usually didn’t complain about anything.

Of course, Ui would have called it a “productive forum for the exchange of advice,” but Ui was also a painful gossip and loved to listen to any type of trouble his co-workers encountered.

“He won’t put any effort into fighting—not near as much as he does while in the office.” Hirako said.

Ui clicked his tongue and shrugged before taking another swig of sake. “Are you sure he isn’t just tired? For someone who has never done any physical activity, he appears to be holding up well.”

“No,” Hirako murmured. “Director Washuu said that his ghoul regeneration factor should ensure that he heals from any strain with enough sleep.”

Ui uncomfortably steered the subject away. “Well, he could just be acting rebellious.”

Hirako snorted. “I doubt it. He’s eager to please when he isn’t fighting.”

“Have you tried negative reinforcement? It sounds like he just doesn’t take you seriously.”

Hirako shook his head. “I thought that might be the case, but I think he has a psychological aversion to violence. He’s more willing to be hit than to attack anyone seriously.”

Arima was probably the most sober of all of them. Or the best at hiding it. Hirako and Ui weren’t sure, but his voice wasn’t the least bit slurred when he said, “Then you need to make him more willing to hurt you.”

Hirako glanced at him. “How? I’ve tried being aggressive, but that just causes him to freeze and lenience just ensures he’ll be as slow as possible.” He paused thoughtfully. “I suppose I could just make him hate me, but that might be counter-productive if he turns out to be passive-aggressive.”

Ui giggled. It was thoroughly undignified. “Incentive, my dear friend,” He lectured with exaggerated poise. “If avoiding getting hit isn’t good enough, try a reward system.”

Arima tilted his head and considered the idea before nodding.

“He didn’t exactly sign up for this,” Ui said, a bit of his long-lost sobriety regained. “Trying to provoke some sort of violence out of him might not work if he doesn’t have the training or pre-pre—“ Ui scoffed in disgust. “Pre-dis-po-sition,” he enunciated very precisely.

The group pondered this for a moment.

“Or,” Ui added pensively. “You could just hit harder.”

“I could,” Hirako said. It was probably simpler and more reminiscent of how he had learned. “But then I’m fairly certain I would break bones, exceptional sturdiness or no.”

Ui cringed.

“That might work if his regeneration factor would keep up with it,” Arima commented mildly.

Hirako looked like he could consider that for a moment before Ui butted in. “Can we please not talk about bone injuries right now,” he pleaded dryly. “I realize the both of you have been blessed greatly and have a managed to avoid numerous breaks, but I am exceptionally prone to them and gifted with wonderful recall ability that runs rampant when intoxicated.”

That small huff of air may have been Arima’s version of a chuckle. “Since Associate Special Class Ui has forbidden its discussion, I suppose we must return to more civilized topics,” he conceded generously.

“Yes,” Ui agreed imperiously. “We must.”

Hirako didn’t see much civility about their current conversation, but he reminded Ui of the last semi-civilized thing they had been discussing, because he looked a bit stumped. “You were saying something about incentive?”

“Ah, yes, yes.” Ui nodded wisely. “Give him a positive reason to act very aggressive.”

Hirako sighed into his sake saucer.

“You could bring him to lun—to a coffee shop to meet us,” Ui teased.

Hirako hummed. “Let me get back to you on that one.”

* * *

 

“Kaneki-san.”

Kaneki looked over to Hirako. “Yes?”

Hirako thought over his words carefully. He had to. He drank slightly more than he intended, and thinking past the static in his brain required concentration. Hirako was fairly sure that was Ui’s fault. He liked gossip and found it easiest to create an atmosphere conductive to it via alcohol.

“I’ve decided we’re going to spar in the mornings.”

Kaneki practically wilted. Hirako resigned himself to also having to teach him the how to hold the barest semblance of a poker face.

“If you can score three solid hits in the next thirty minutes, then you may have the day off.”

Well.

Ui had been right.

That reward had noticeably removed some of Kaneki’s hesitance. It took two more consecutive days of the same offer for Kaneki’s effort to be anywhere near decent, but it worked.

Kaneki panted heavily, his jaw gritted in what Hirako could assume was despair. Only two minutes remained on the clock, and Kaneki hadn’t managed even a glancing blow in the last five minutes. But, he threw himself at Hirako, his eyes wide and desperate. He just had to score one more point.

He was still painfully sloppy and unpracticed, but today there was a new sort of urgency to all of his movements that Hirako appreciated. He shrugged off blows that would have previously left him stunned and instead came back with a hurricane of devoted punches and kicks.

Reckless and desperate and very determined. Hirako tilted his head and deftly parried any punches. Kaneki glanced at the clock. Thirty seconds. And instead of the usual sadness and passive frustration and already accepted defeat that permeated the end of their morning spars yesterday and the day before, Kaneki launched forward and refused to concede any ground.

Actual anger, the first open sign of it that Hirako had ever seen from him, flooded his face. Hirako lazily swiped at his jaw and easily connected, added a few kicks here and there to make him stumble a bit, but Kaneki surged forward, fighting furiously with no intention of losing or ceasing until the timer rang.

And that was what made Hirako see two seconds left on their clock and purposefully step into a very nice roundhouse kick. Kaneki’s entire face transformed in shock, and he wobbled dangerously, his form on the verge of crumpling, and all it took was a small nudge on his forehead for him to lose his balance and go crashing to the floor.

Hirako looked down at him. “You need to keep your stances more steady or disengage faster, Kaneki-san,” He said tonelessly.

Kaneki groaned an affirmation from the floor, heart and breath racing.

“However,” Hirako said, as he reached down, grabbed Kaneki’s hand, and tugged him to his feet. “Please enjoy your day off.”

A startled little laugh escaped Kaneki’s chest and he stared at Hirako with amazement. “Thank you, Hirako-san.”

Hirako nodded. “I want you to do the exact same thing tomorrow.”

Kaneki nodded frantically.

“Then you’re dismissed.”

And Kaneki practically skipped away.

Hirako met with Ui over lunch as he usually did when they were both at the same office and tried to ignore Ui’s smug expression. It was a bit difficult since Ui knew Kaneki went home early today. The rumor mill was a vicious and quick thing.

“So, has he improved any?”

“Marginally,” Hirako said.

“So positive reinforcement was successful?” Ui pressed.

Hirako sighed. “Do you want me to praise your genius?”

“No, no, of course not. I’m just excited for you.”

Hirako vaguely wondered whether soy sauce stained white irreparably. He heroically refrained from checking, even as Ui obnoxiously pressed closer. For all his poise and professionalism when in a working environment, he could be such a little shit with his friends. Of course, that was limited mostly to Hirako and a select few others.

How lucky for him.

“It’s your first younger partner!” Ui grinned. “You’re oh so very inspiring with your enthusiasm. It’s contagious, I daresay.”

“More like terminal.”

Ui laughed. “But in all honesty,” he said. “Everyone’s curious. You’re being so very secretive about it.”

Hirako shrugged. “He’s self-conscious. Having an audience would be detrimental to his progress.”

“That’s considerate of you . . . and how is his progress?” Ui asked innocently.

Hirako shot him an unimpressed stare before he conceded. “Good. He’s less awkward and more determined. He’s started mimicking my movements, but he’s unrefined and needs more familiarity with fighting in general.” Hirako picked at his rice. “His speed’s increased dramatically; I’m not sure how much of that has to do with his ghoul abilities.”

Ui pursed his lips. “That’s good.”

Hirako glanced back up at him, but, thinking better of it, just returned to his rice. There was plenty of time for Ui’s issues when Hirako had something to say about them. “Yes,” he replied shortly. “Very good.”

* * *

 

It honestly took Hide more effort to find the name “Rize Kamishiro” than it did to determine that it was fake. And even though that was a giant let-down, he tried to not let it bring him down.

Because, really, a fake name just thickened the heck out of the plot.

Yes, he did have strange coping mechanisms. Why do you ask?

And as much as he was freaking out, it did further confirm his suspicions that something strange was going on. Something that required the address of the deceased’s house to be declared a crime scene. That hadn’t taken much effort either. Just a bit of searching, a smidge of cross referencing, and ta-da!

One dead girl’s house.

Coated with DO NOT CROSS yellow tape and swarmed with people that were definitely not police investigators.

And really, that was all Hide needed to work with. Ghouls? Unexpected, but surely an adequate explanation for such a complete disappearance. It made it a bit easier to function day-to-day, knowing that no one had assassinated his best friend and the hospital was refusing to tell him.

Nope.

He had just gone missing inexplicably and was somehow involved with ghouls. And the CCG. Hide had heard his mother talk about that sometimes. Not recently. But when he was younger.

He didn’t really catch a good vibe surrounding the whole deal. And Kaneki wasn’t answering his calls. Or texts.

It scared him. Kaneki just _disappeared_. And Hide knew he was the only one who would look for him.

God, that was a heavy fucking burden.

To know how alone someone could be.

Hide was social. He thrived with people. Kaneki didn’t like crowds, but he didn’t like solitude the way Hide occasionally did. He was scared to be rejected. He had reason to. People were awful and poisonous sometimes, and Kaneki was the type to offer his skin as a resting place for fangs.

People took advantage of that. How trusting he was.

And Hide watched out for him. He didn’t have to, but he did. Kaneki had asked him before. “Why are we friends? I’m not very interesting.”

And he didn’t _know_ how _kind_ he was. How real. His masks were flimsy and transparent and Hide was maybe a bit narcissistic, but he liked knowing that he could make someone smile with his very presence. Especially someone so sad. Hide liked seeing him smile and be raw and real.

That was selfish. Hide would be the first to admit it, but he was more of a “the ends justify the means” kinda guy. His deepest relationship was with Kaneki.

And Hide wasn’t about to lose him to some fucking monster hunting club.

There was an internship. Office errand runner and delivery boy. Which was perfect, in Hide’s opinion. Nobody suspects the help.

It was mostly a part time gig. Weekends and Wednesdays. Hide could rearrange his classes easily enough. He sent an email with his resume attached and then suddenly a week later he was walking into a high security building with a pleasant smile on his face and too many questions he couldn’t ask.

Hide committed all the names he could to memory. Tried to be subtle. He was just some college guy who needed cash. A nobody with no conflicts of interest who had no desire to break any of the rules that were given to him.

 He delivered just coffee or takeout his first few days. There were a lot of people, and all of them were itching for a caffeine fix or lunch that wasn’t from a cafeteria. His arrival was usually met with a sliding scale of pure unadulterated relief and casual happiness. Which was good.

Hide didn’t get tired easily, but after so many hours of trekking back and forth, he nearly collapsed into his bed after the day. A satisfied smile lit of his face even through the ache. People liked him. That was a good start.

He would have preferred immediate access to highly classified documents, but Hide was realistic.

Optimistic, but realistic.

Food was probably a good start. First impressions were vital, and if people associated him with food and caffeine, he probably had a good reputation already. It wouldn’t be too hard to keep up with the demands of the job, college, and his own research.

He could figure this out. He just had to be patient and keep going.

After all, it was for Kaneki.

Anything would be worth it.

* * *

 

Kaneki glanced again at the canister on his kitchen counter. Yesterday, right before he had left for his hard earned day off, Director Washuu had called him to his office via the new cell phone the CCG had given him. Kaneki wasn’t sure how he knew that he was done already, but he supposed someone that influential would have eyes everywhere.

It a short meeting. After the preliminary niceties and greetings, Washuu asked Kaneki how he was. Kaneki said he was fine.

“And how is it working with Hirako-san?”

And Kaneki couldn’t help recall that Hirako maybe, might have been proud of him. He hadn’t smiled, per se, but he had helped him up. Asked for the same effort, which sounded like Kaneki had given a good effort. At the very least, his expression made Kaneki feel proud of himself. “He’s very nice. It’s hard, but, uh, I don’t mind.”

And so on they went. The Director smiled and thanked Kaneki for his time. Handed Kaneki a company credit card and a sealed thermos of sorts. Said lightly, “If you start feeling hungry, please drink this. It will satisfy you.”

Kaneki had blanched and tensed and really had wanted to say, “No, I’m good, thank you, goodbye.” Had really wanted to run. But he didn’t.

He stiffly thanked the Director. The director accepted easily and teased Kaneki as he left not to go too wild with his spending.

 Kaneki went to his apartment. Home. He spent a good ten minutes looking at the canister. It seemed so innocuous. He wouldn’t have thought it filled with dead human flesh, but it probably was. He didn’t open it. His stomached ached in protest and he almost flung the thing across the room.

But then it might splatter open and that would be just as bad.

Because Kaneki was hungry. It was a bit easier to ignore when he was distracted with sparring or office work. But he was. And if he opened a package to see raw flesh and to smell “food” then he didn’t know if he would resist. And that scared him.

So, Kaneki carefully, carefully set it on the counter. The director made it sound like the thing would keep. Kaneki wasn’t that hungry yet. He was used to hunger. He had dealt with it before and though he didn’t want to feel like he was slipping back into that trap, he also wasn’t going to eat people.

He left his house hungry and went to a book store. And a clothing store. He bought some books to pass the time, and a few fighting books—Hirako-san would be surprised when he came back tomorrow—as well as comfort clothes and night clothes.

He wanted to just go home to his real apartment and grab his stuff, but his request to do had been met with a very kind “No.” The director offered to have someone go over there and pick up his stuff, but Kaneki waved him off. He didn’t want anyone from the CCG in his apartment.

And after stalling in a commercial coffee shop—there weren’t any good places or cafes in the first ward—he had finally crumpled and went home. Coffee that he couldn’t drink and pastries he couldn’t eat wasn’t doing anything for his appetite.

So he went home and stared at that damned canister and then quickly secluded himself in his room and read. And then tossed and turned once he had finally turned out the light. He was usually too exhausted to think when he got home. Having energy to spare was strange and unwelcome. It made him think.

He was no stranger to the dangerous thoughts that came on the edge of sleep. The ones that had no benefit in being thought, but were whispered insidiously either way.

_What happens when I get too hungry?_

Kaneki rolled over. A few times, when he was absorbed in reading, he had gotten up and was at the kitchen counter before he realized it was pointless. He couldn’t drink that stuff, whatever it was. It was like an admission. If he did, he would be admitting defeat and accepting that he could never go back to normality.

To Hide.

God, he missed Hide. Just thinking about him stabbed at all his raw seams. He tried to avoid thinking about him during the day. It would just be painful.

But now it was the night and Kaneki was too energetic and hungry to sleep and too tired to stop thinking.

Hide had once snuck in though Kaneki’s window when his aunt had grounded him. He came with junk food and his laptop and scary movies that Kaneki had said he wanted to see, climbed up to the second story and shimmied through.

Kaneki, too shocked to believe his eyes, had asked, “Hide, what are you doing?”

He smiled easily, “Rescuing you from boredom!”

They stayed up late, huddled underneath the covers of Kaneki’s bed, straining to hear the dialog through Hide’s pair of ratty headphones. Had to keep quiet, so Hide whispered jokes that made Kaneki shake silently with laughter instead of yell at all the bad jump scares. That almost backfired; laughing was just as hard to silence as screams, but neither of them cared.

He hid himself in the closet and sneaked back out through the window come morning.

And then that became their ritual of sorts, because Kaneki was nearly always grounded on weekends for some reason or another. When Kaneki was finally able to leave and get a place to stay, Hide had banged so loudly on the front door Kaneki dropped his cup noodles.

“Hey, we have nothing to hide anymore!”

And that night, they were not silent or even quiet. That was the memory that Kaneki christened his apartment with. Listening to awful movies on full volume and laughing and yelling and never feeling like any second someone would crash through the door and ruin everything. It was so much better than anything Kaneki could remember. It made the future feel full of hope.

Kaneki sniffed. Even thinking about good things were painful. Probably because they were good, and Kaneki knew deep down that he couldn’t have them again. Because now his insides were rotten and parasitic, and he knew what piqued his appetite when he was in public.

His phone had gotten lost in the bustle of everything. It was a small blessing. The temptation to call Hide was gone when he wasn’t constantly texting him.

It wasn’t the director’s words (“This needs to be kept secret, you understand, right?”) that kept Kaneki from dialing Hide’s number. It was the shame and fear and sadness. He couldn’t drag Hide into another big mess.

Hide was too good for ghouls and monsters. Kaneki was selfish to want to call him; ask him to magically make everything better. Hide was honestly better off without him. Not weighed down and dimmed out.

So Kaneki would wait. Just a little while longer. Until he had things better under control and it didn’t feel like so much of a mess. Until he could just figure everything out. Until he wasn’t hungry and didn’t catch himself staring too long at things he shouldn’t find fascinating.

* * *

 

Take knew he had taken longer than requested of him. However, this was one of the few instances wherein the request had been for him to devote his time, so that was fine. Two weeks wasn’t a long enough time to learn how to fight and handle a quinque.

But, three weeks was pushing the director’s request and Take was unwilling to wait any longer. When a lead to a new ghoul came in, Hirako claimed it and no one fought him on it. It was a B rank at best, infrequent and sloppy. Probably very young. No rewards or glory for that.

Kaneki had assisted in an investigation already; a long three-month affair over a possible clown member. He had dropped in on the last two weeks of it, and Hirako didn’t invite him along on reconnaissance or the extermination, but he had easily grasped the nuances of office work.

He applied them wonderfully to their case. Even if he didn’t contribute to the deductions, per se, having someone take care of paper work and the like saved Hirako a lot of time. So it didn’t take long, less than a week, to complete their work. It was one of the easiest cases Hirako had taken in years.

 “Badger?” Kaneki asked. “We found a match?”

“Yes,” he said. “They appear to be a vagabond in the sixth ward. We need to move on the target before they change locations again.”

Kaneki looked exceptionally uncomfortable.

Hirako sighed. He still was squeamish about violence. Well, it wasn’t Hirako’s job to coddle him. “I’ve already looked over the surrounding area plans. We’re leaving in about half an hour to catch them before dark.”

Kaneki nodded distractedly. His skin was pallid and his eyes unfocused. Hirako allowed him to deal with it. Reassurances weren’t helpful to people like Kaneki. They would keep trying to twist the world to make sense or break themselves to fit it.

“Uh,” Kaneki said distractedly. “Will we require any backup?”

Hirako glanced at Kaneki. He reminded himself that his only experience with a ghoul was an S-rank nightmare. He didn’t have any reference for what they were dealing with. That was fine. “No.”

Kaneki blanched, and Hirako politely left him to sort out his own feelings.

Kaneki really didn’t want to sort out anything he was feeling. The whole thing was moving too fast. A ghoul. Another ghoul and he had to face them.

 Hirako seemed confident, but that really didn’t help. Hirako’s confidence was different than someone like Hide’s. Hide enjoyed attention and didn’t feel the need to apologize for taking space. Hirako simply existed and _did_ things. He didn’t think about it. It was a strange and terrifying contentment with anything that appeared. He didn’t worry. And Kaneki, who scratched and picked at everything until he was raw and seeping with something akin to an infection couldn’t _understand_.

He was awestruck. Hirako was unapologetic. He jumped the RC barrier everyday with Kaneki, and at this point no one questioned him. He didn’t expect useless apologies or give them. If someone curious invited Kaneki to lunch, wanting to learn more about this new rank three, Hirako didn’t even look up from his papers before lying through his teeth and giving Kaneki an escape route.

Unapologetic and very, very cold.

Tears didn’t make him slow down. His praise felt flat and constructed with a tongue that didn’t mean what it was saying. And that honestly just made Kaneki desperate, because he wanted to please him. Which was completely counter-intuitive and brainless and moronic, because wasn’t he trying to get _out_ of being an investigator?

But he wanted to all the same.

Because, Hirako’s praise wasn’t freely given or blatant or affectionate the way Hide’s was. It was objective and entirely reflective of Kaneki’s own worth. It was hard won and even harder to keep. And even the barest smudge of it made Kaneki glow.

God, he was pathetic.

And he anticipated and dreaded the upcoming fight, because as much as he was scared, maybe he could do well and earn a—smile? No, that would be too much to ask for. And Hirako didn’t really do physical contact unless it was for training purposes. And Kaneki couldn’t eat, so that counted a victory dinner out as well.

Fuck. Eating. Why did he think of that? That was dangerous territory. He was still holding out. And every day it got harder to resist.

No, no, no.

_Upcoming fight. Focus. Ghouls, you have to fight a ghoul. You have to prove yourself._

_You have to fail._

_You need to win!_

And those were the warring factions in his head. Because Kaneki could never decide what he wanted. What a joke.

And the infighting just continued in the back his mind, even as he exited the car. The warehouse was three blocks away. Hirako didn’t want to risk alerting the target and giving them time to escape.

The location was surprisingly populated. Not exactly slums, but definitely lower income. Occasionally vibrant and beautiful graffiti cut through the gloom of alley ways. Hirako didn’t attempt to be stealthy. He walked like he owned the place, and no one paid him any mind. They glanced at their briefcases and office clothes and hurried on. Children scrambled inside.

The sixth ward had comparatively high ghoul activity. Nowhere near as bad as the eleventh ward, but enough that when civilians saw the CCG, they recognized them on sight and immediately cleared the area. Kaneki wanted to follow them.

But he didn’t. He trailed behind Hirako and gripped his briefcase. White knuckles on nicked metal. _Yukimura._ Kohaku. Originally belonged to Kishou Arima. Kaneki had no idea if he could wield it in a fight.

Hirako suddenly stepped up his pace. Not running. But he wasn’t casually strolling anymore. He offered only a few words. “Stay behind me.” And then he kicked open the warehouse door as loudly as possible and barged in.

There were two people. They sprung away from something on the ground. Their mouths and hands were red. One of them was shorter than Kaneki, their young eyes wide in horror. Kaneki’s were the same. Oh, what a wonderful smell. Oh, what a pretty corpse.

“Aniki!”

The older one, a woman with brittle bones and a haggard face, their nose looking like it had been broken and never healed grit their teeth. Hirako tilted his head. “Two,” He murmured. And then he rushed forward.

That’s when the screaming started.

The woman tried. She really did. Her kagune erupted out of her back and her eyes inked and sparked red. She jabbed with the tail. Hirako batted it away with his quinque. Oh. Kaneki should probably bring his out. And move. And fight.

But he couldn’t.

The woman was fast. She dodged all the slices that came her way. She was doing well. Better than Kaneki.

And then the kid tried to help.

His ears had been water-clogged but now they were clear. The girl—she was so young, ratty and tattered and monstrous, but so young—she tried to attack from behind. Kaneki realized what the woman—older girl, she was also young—was screaming, begging, pleading.

“RUN!”

Hirako didn’t hesitate. He drop kicked the woman away and spun in the same breath, and severed the girl’s out stretched hand from her thin arm. Blood misted the air.

The girl dropped like a stone and Hirako smashed her across the face with a vicious kick that sent her small body flying. And the older girl screamed.

Hirako reengaged and then it was nearly as quick. Anger made her reckless. Hirako’s cleaver ripped through her side. She stumbled and cried out, and he brought the blade down on her shoulder. It didn’t go all the way through, and he simply yanked it out.

The older girl heaved her body away from him, but she wasn’t going to get very far. Not when they were bleeding that much. But she dashed to the side of the younger girl. Handed her something. Kissed her forehead and smiled.

The younger girl was quivering and shaking, snot and tears and blood all streaming down her face. But they nodded. And they ran, ripping out a chunk of intestines from the corpse on the floor and fled out the back door. Hirako moved to intercept her, but the older girl wasn’t done.

She had just eaten, and RC cells were flooding her system. Her kagune, a wide and flat bikaku, slithered out.

Hirako had to repeat themselves three times before Kaneki could understand. “Follow the ghoul! Don’t let them escape.”

And Kaneki couldn’t stand being in the same room as all of this blood—he did as he was told. Chased after the young child. Their limbs were short, but they were fast and determined.

But. . .

Kaneki saw the way they carelessly ripped out organs and flesh. He couldn’t let that happen to another person.

He careened after them. His limbs were longer. That made up for how hungry he was. He imagined them killing Hide and it became easier to imagine killing this monster. He could do it. He just had to outrun them and make one determined slice.

That was it.

Life could be so cheap.

They were in alleyways now. The girl threw down trash bins and metal beams in her wake. Kaneki rushed on. And the child was screaming as she ran. “DOVES! DOVES!”

Shrieking and shrieking.

Kaneki almost slid past her as she stopped suddenly and burst through the back door of an old building. A gutted apartment scheduled for tear down. He launched himself through the door. His briefcase was knocked out of his hand. Someone slammed him into the wall. Their forearm crushed into his neck. His breaths ripped in and out, painful and not enough air.

It wasn’t the girl. She was staring at him hatefully across the room.

Past three older, much bigger ghouls.

They were yelling. Not at Kaneki. At the girl.

Apparently it wasn’t proper to lead doves to other ghouls. The only woman drew her kagune, Scaly and terrifying. She casually struck the girl. Pierced her through the shoulder and flung her through one of the walls. The sheetrock gave easily.

“Let him bleed. Maybe it’ll slow the other down.”

The man holding Kaneki by the throat smirked. “With pleasure.”

He stepped back. Kaneki fell to the floor, gasping, and careened to the side. A long and thin blade nicked the wall where his stomach had been second ago. Kaneki lunged to where his briefcase had fallen.

Then his luck ran out.

The woman casually knocked it just out of reach. Punched a quick and neat hole into his side. There was fluid in his mouth and breath. Punctured a lung. She had slipped between his ribs and punctured a lung. He coughed and gaged and blood dribbled down his chin. He was drowning.

A thin blade slowly and leisurely stabbed into the back of his leg. Kaneki screamed. The ghoul laughed.

“Quit playing,” the woman snapped. “The others will come looking.”

The razor point pressed further. White-hot agony. He couldn’t see. He writhed and that just made a mess. Soupy muscles. The edge scraped bone.

“Just some fun,” the man said.

“Well hurry up.” The woman turned to leave.

He split the bone. Thin flat blade pushed in along the grain. It split. Could be hairline. Could already be leaking marrow.

 Kaneki seized and snapped. Something tore at his skin and bubbled up through his back. Up, up, and out.

It was like a tongue. A long-sharp tongue of pure muscle. He sliced behind him, and twisted through the pain to watch the ghoul’s head fly from his body. Still surprised and inky eyed. People were yelling again. Scrambling back.

He didn’t stop. He tore after the remaining member. Severed their foot and punched through their sternum. Their heart turned to mush.

By now the woman had caught on. She dodged his stabs. Her own kagune blocked. He nearly crumpled.

Kaneki had to push away from the wall. The floor where his neck had been was now gouged and cracked. He could feel his leg knitting together again. He laughed breathlessly. Attacked. But he could feel himself slowing. His grip on everything fading. Tired. He was so tired.

So, so hungry.

And he was going to die that way.

That’s why he almost didn’t register the little girl. With a flat and wide tail. How she darted behind the woman and severed her kagune at the base. Spun and whipped around and carved through her legs, and shoved her off balance.

But Kaneki didn’t hesitate. Organs obliterated and thrown out the other side. A voice cut out as all the pressure in her chest cavity dropped. Can’t scream without lungs. Not in rage or pain or fear.

Kaneki blearily watched the girl. She locked eyes in one instant. Ran the next. Out the door and gone. Kaneki couldn’t follow. He could hardly keep his eyes open. Adrenaline faded. Pain resurged. His leg was twitching. Muscles straining to reknit and reconnect. Another mouthful of blood splattered the floor.

Food, food, where was the food?

His kagune writhed and tore at the walls. He didn’t know how to make it go away. It just kept sapping his energy. Weight and ache in his lower back.

And then it was gone. Painfully, but mercifully gone. He didn’t have time to sigh in relief. Something heavy and blunt nearly split his skull. Everything went dark.

And when he woke up, there was something foul in his mouth. Raw meat. Inexplicably not as bad as food, but still awful. He tried to gag, but it slid down his throat. He shuddered.

Awful. More appeared. Hands opened his mouth and dropped more in, and then forced his mouth closed. Kaneki whined and tried to turn his head, but he couldn’t. The same hands kneaded at his throat, and Kaneki choked another wet chunk down.

He clenched his jaw, and the hands gave up. He wearily opened his eyes. Hirako. He had blood splattered across his face. Kaneki could tell it wasn’t his. It didn’t smell nearly as good. Kaneki squeezed his eyes shut. Still hungry. It made him dizzy.

Hirako was talking. Words. Short and simple and repeated.

“We need to move.”

Kaneki tried to agree. It came out as a groan. He nodded instead.

His limbs were shifting. It didn’t hurt as much as it should have. Hirako carried him. His throat was right next to Kaneki’s face. Kaneki’s stomach convulsed. Oh, he just could rip—NO!

Kaneki turned away and hacked up another glob of congealed blood. His chest heaved past the iron weighing it down.

Hirako laid him out in the backseat. Kaneki grit his jaw, squeezed his eyes. His _leg_. He tensed and tried to block it out. But he was hovering on the edge of consciousness, engulfed in pain that made him sick.

Oh, no, that was more blood. It tore up his throat and splattered in little flickers into the air. He fought for breath.

His head slammed into the door from one too many too-sharp turns, and Kaneki was gladly knocked into unconsciousness. But his sleep was peppered with pain and voices and sharp smiles of a dead monster who smiled slyly just out of sight.

“Oh, Kaneki-san,” She sighed. “You should have eaten.”

Flowers were taking root in his throat. Little tendrils weaving through flesh and alongside capillaries. His throat helplessly contracted and squeezed. He spoke around the blossoms fighting for space in his mouth. Soft little feathers on his tongue. “No,” he croaked.

Rize shook her head sadly. She lightly cupped his face and turned his head to her. She looked so lovely. He face was seeping blood from everywhere. Eyes. Lips. Nose. How could she speak so clearly without choking? Kaneki envied her.

His eyes stung, ached, and he was crying. Rize smiled and lightly brushed his face with her fingertips. Wiped away trails of tears. Her hand came away black, like it was stained with ink. Was that his?

Rize plopped one finger in her mouth. She frowned. “You taste foul,” She murmured. She sounded so sad.

Kaneki whimpered and his chest heaved. Stems of flowers bundled and twisting together expanded in his throat. Curious roots reached into his trachea. He howled, his vocal cords tearing around the flowers. He dropped to his knees and reached to tear the flowers from his throat, but something tore and red long sharp tongues stabbed through his palms and wove along his wrists.

His arms were wrenched behind him. He screamed, but it was muffled; he might as well not have tried. His eyes were flowing out of their sockets, and refilling again. Thick pen ink, glinting and soupy, splattered onto the floor. It stained everything. It spread so fast.

His ribs creaked. There were too many fleshy leaves in his lungs. And there were more and more, until he couldn’t breathe at all, not a sliver of air. His cheeks bulged. The blossoms were blocked and backed up and ready to tear through his skin. Some of the more desperate bulbs fought through his nasal canals. One was worming up and in and out through his ear.

He was drowning. His ribs snapped, punctured out through his skin. Little bulbs of baby flowers followed, reaching for the sun. There was no sun. His inky tears had stained the sky. It was dark. The baby bulbs screamed and cried. They wanted to live.

The floor was a river of oil, but Rize knelt in front of him. It soaked and stained her pretty white skirt. She lightly and softly brushed the blossoms, his skin. “You’re pathetic,” she said simply. Just a casual statement. It was true.

Kaneki nodded desperately and learned into her touch. She poked around the edges of his lips. Where all the flowers peeled out of. “So pathetic,” she repeated. She hooked a finger into the corner of his mouth and _tore_. He screamed, and flowers greedily swarmed forward. “If you wanted to avoid this pain,” she said calmly as she ripped open the other side of his face, “then you should have saved yourself.”

Rize reached into his mouth. Past the blossoms. Reached deep in his throat and all the way into his abdomen and gripped the roots and tore. Up and up and out, ripping out all the little roots and leafy stems. There were chunks of flesh caught in them. She tossed them to the side disdainfully. They twisted pathetically and were drenched in all the oil and drowned.

Kaneki wept. “I tried,” He mumbled desperately. “I tried. You held me back.”

Rize laughed and ran a dipping hand down his arm. Prodded at the edges of where his palms met kagune. “Oh, Kaneki-san.” Rize glanced up and met his eyes. Her face was lovely and clean and there was a red spindly spider flower peeking out from behind her teeth.

“That may be my kagune, but I am not the one who wields it.”

Kaneki jerked and stared up at Rize. He was suddenly aware of the weight and ache in his back. Those painful and scaly monstrosities were _his_. He wrenched his arms and heaved, but the appendages only tightened their grip and pushed his shoulders further back. His bones creaked.

Rize stood and brushed her hair behind her ear. She glanced off into the infinite, and then back at Kaneki with a coy smile. “I wonder,” she said, running her hands through Kaneki’s hair. And as terrified as he was, Kaneki didn’t want her to stop. He wanted her to stay and help him and tell him _why_. “Do you want to die?”

Kaneki coughed and hacked and out of his mouth popped a single white carnation. Rize eyed it appreciably and plucked it up. The bottom was stained with oil and rotting. She placed it in her hair. She leaned down and brushed the edges of his torn and ruined face with her lips. He could feel his skin knitting back together.

Rize laughed softly and whispered gently, calmly, wryly into his ear, “What a joke.”

Kaneki jerked awake. There were voices arguing outside his door. He knew that from the tone. He couldn’t make out the words.

The door opened. Light streamed in. Kaneki blinked a few times.

Hirako. He looked unimpressed. What a surprise.

He stood silently for a moment. Kaneki felt so tired. He couldn’t wait. “Hello, Hirako-san,” he slurred. “What happened?” It was a bit of a blur of running and pain and blood.

Hirako sat down at a chair to the side. He stared at all of the bags of fluid that Kaneki was hooked up to. Traced one of the lines to a needle firmly taped to the crook of Kaneki’s arm. He caught Kaneki’s eye and nodded his head towards it. Kaneki furrowed his brows, but gave his blurry permission.

Hirako carefully removed it and tied it off. He sat back again. “You fought with three other ghouls and sustained injuries.”

Kaneki inhaled deeply. He hadn’t forgotten that. It was like drowning.

“I brought you to the sixth ward branch for medical treatment.”

There was something in that statement that Kaneki was too tired to decode. He didn’t try. He was too tried to deal with all of it.

“I apologize,” Hirako said suddenly. “I shouldn’t have told you to follow that ghoul.”

Kaneki was already shaking his head. “It was my own fault. I wasn’t fast enough to corner it.”

Hirako stared at Kaneki. And then he reached into his coat pocket. He pulled out a bag of something red. A blood transfusion bag. Set it into Kaneki’s suddenly numb hands. “Drink this.”

Kaneki stared at it. His mouth flooded with saliva. “I’m good, Hirako-san, thank you,” He mumbled.

Hirako had that same blank expression. Blinked at Kaneki’s response. “You haven’t eaten since we took you off the RC cell transfusion Kanou gave you.” It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an accusation either. Just a plain statement of facts.

Kaneki gaped. He tried to explain. He couldn’t eat this. Except all his protests were ignored.

“How is volunteered blood an inhumane food source?”

“Because I’m human,” Kaneki said. “I can’t eat humans.”

Hirako was decidedly unsympathetic. “You must.”

“No,” Kaneki said, his voice growing stronger. “I won’t.” The hunger was gnawing at him. He could hold off.

“You will.”

And suddenly he was yelling. “I WON’T!”

Hirako didn’t flinch. “So you will starve?”

Kaneki didn’t answer.

“Do you want to die?”

Kaneki didn’t know. He didn’t want to live if his very existence hurt people. Except…

Hadn’t he killed three people? Hadn’t he intended to kill a child? They were ghouls and monsters and murderers but so was Kaneki now. The only thing that made him different was that he didn’t eat people. It should have felt like a bigger distinction than it did. He didn’t answer.

“Kaneki,” Hirako said, “If I hadn’t been the next person who came across you, you would have killed someone.”

Kaneki tried to protest, but Hirako silenced him with a sharp glare.

“You would have. You were entirely mindless. You were begging for food.”

Oh.

Hirako had heard that. Hirako had fed him. “What did you give me?” It spilled past his lips. Quick and sudden and desperate.

Hirako was calm and remorseless. “Ghouls can consume other ghouls. You needed RC cells, or your injury would have been much more serious.”

Kaneki felt like retching. Monsters. He ate monsters. You are what you eat. Was that better than people? Kaneki couldn’t decide.

His eyes were wet. He couldn’t swallow past the lump in his throat. Hirako sighed and reached over. He plucked the blood transfusion bag from his lap. Kaneki breathed a sigh of relief. The temptation was gone.

Except then there was a tearing sound. Kaneki smelled something wonderful. His mouth flooded with saliva. He was drooling for the barest instant before blood splashed against his lips. It was like water after weeks without a drop. The bag plopped into his hands, and surged out, spilling over his fingers.

Then it was a race. Drink and drink and slurp at this tiny baggy. It was cold. Chilled. Kaneki took three gulps and it was gone. He was desperately licking at his hands before he came to his senses.

A strangled cry tore out of his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, but he could still smell it. Like heaven and home and salvation. There were tears pouring down his face. His head fell back dully against the pillow. He could feel the blood congealing in the creases of his skin. He held them carefully away from himself. Tried not to stain anything else.

Something wet was pushed into his hand. A washcloth. Hirako looked at him. Maybe that was sadness? Kaneki couldn’t tell.

“Please clean up. We need to leave.”

And Hirako left. To give him privacy. But before he closed the door, he looked back.

“You did well.” Then he was gone.

Kaneki slowly cleaned his hands and his face. His thoughts were just as slow. He just lapped up blood. Licked it off his fingers. All his noble intentions out the window.

He was foul and awful.

Why did he feel so much better?

Why did he cling so desperately to those few words of praise?

Why did Rize have to say all the things he didn't want to think?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the beginning of a hiatus. I'm aiming for quality so I'm going to go back and edit my work. Cut out some fluff and add more sustenance. I've left you with what I hope is a satisfying if not somewhat morbid ending for this arc. 
> 
> I don't really know when I'll get started on the next arc. It may take some time. I'll try not to leave you hanging. In the meantime, I've left the more dedicated of you with a riddle. It's at the top. If you feel like talking symbolism or guessing about anything, leave a comment! I'll try to get the next chapter out before march! Happy February!


	7. Hide and Seek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we've all been waiting for this one.

 

“You’re leaving?” Kaneki asked.

Hirako glanced over from his desk, his fingers pausing the rhythmic tapping characteristic of their office most mornings. “Yes. A Chinese branch located in Hong Kong has asked for assistance on a large scale raid.” Hirako looked back to his laptop and continued filling out a electronic form. “The second branch has decided that First Class forces should make up the bulk of the force they send,” he added as an afterthought.

Kaneki bit his lip and looked back to the folder containing his orders for temporary transfer to the 20th ward, effective immediately. He was silent for a beat, shifting through the details of his assignment and protocols. “Do you know when you will be back?”

Hirako shook his head. “I’m flying out tomorrow and the raid is set to take place in nine days. It’s expected to be an extended affair, possibly two days. If they need help in the aftermath, then I might stay longer.”

Kaneki nodded and tried not to feel disappointed. “And…” He hesitated, but then tensed and just _said_ what he was thinking; “There’s no chance I could come with you?” Why was that so difficult? Kaneki didn’t look up, but he heard Hirako stop typing.

“No. The director won’t risk your situation being discovered, especially in a place where jurisdiction could be argued.”

Kaneki stared blankly at the page. That hadn’t occurred to him. Sometimes, it truly slipped his mind that he wasn’t human anymore. He couldn’t ever leave Japan. He had never truly wanted to, but now that the option was a non-possibility, he found himself thinking about it. Would he have liked traveling? Probably not, but now couldn’t find out.

Kaneki tore his mind away from that trail of thought. If he did, he would wonder about his degree that was never going to be completed or the dates he could never go on or the people who would never see him again. He couldn’t afford it. Not today. And yet he wanted to mull over it over and over and—

“Kaneki-san,” Hirako said suddenly.

Kaneki jerked and glanced upwards.

“You can go home early today. You need to pack.”

Kaneki nodded. “Thank you, Hirako-san.” He stood and grabbed his briefcase and tucked the folder under his arm.

Just as he was at the door way, Hirako called out, “Don’t tell anyone who isn’t already informed.”

Kaneki grimaced and a little flash of anxiety wormed into his abdomen. He nodded.

“Don’t allow anyone to put you in a dangerous position. You are under the protection of Director Washuu and if your superior behaves inappropriately, do not hesitate to remind them of that.”

Kaneki furrowed his brows, but he nodded. He could never see himself saying that, but he closed his eyes, put on a smile, and scratched his chin. “I will.”

Hirako stared at him for a moment before nodding.

Kaneki left the office and walked out through the barriers. The director had ordered that doctors find a way to sync his vitals to the detectors so that they wouldn’t be triggered when he walked through them. Kaneki didn’t quite understand it, but he knew it functioned the same way as it did when registering a quinque.

He smiled a farewell to the now familiar receptionist. She smiled back, and Kaneki knew that is why he was occasionally able to forget why he was here. No one really knew about him besides a small amount of upper rank investigators. And a medical team—but Kaneki suspected he still had some degree of doctor-patient confidentiality. Either that, or someone had ordered discretion.

On the way home, he swung by a store and grabbed some actual luggage. He had to pack at least two weeks’ worth of clothing and he knew plastic bags wouldn’t do it.

He hauled his bags through the door and flicked on the light. It was getting a bit dusty, he realized dully. He made a mental note to clean when he got back, as he dumped his assignment folder and keys on the counter and set his quinque down by the couch.

Kaneki wished he felt more excited to go back to the 20th ward, but all he felt was a deep sense of dread. That place held too many unpleasant memories and too many dangerous realities. Staying in his old apartment was like wearing a pair of shoes that didn’t fit. The mere idea felt claustrophobic, and that was one of the nicer experiences he would have to deal with.

He still hadn’t called Hide. The only reason he hadn’t broken down and contacted him was that he had a new phone, and it was easier to remember why he was avoiding Hide when he held a physical reminder in his hand. Kaneki knew it would just be easier to make a clean break. He knew Hide would see all the holes and his story and either the truth or the lies would drive him away.

Kaneki wanted to avoid that. He wanted to avoid saying goodbye and the easiest way to do that would be to simply say nothing. He wanted to keep his friendship with Hide in a stasis of memory, before all this mess had happened; then, at least, he could look back fondly at his time.

A goodbye would ruin everything because it would either be Kaneki tearing himself away from his best friend or Hide rejecting him like a transplanted organ. Both were too horrible contemplate enduring.

OOO

Kaneki reported to the twentieth branch precisely at 11:50. The receptionist seemed strangely excited to see him. That might have to do with how silent the ward usually was. Having Investigators move in was a big deal, apparently.

Kaneki took the elevator to the fourth floor and hesitated outside room 107. He could hear people arguing inside. He couldn’t distinguish the words, but he knew from the tone, and he breathed deeply before gathering the strength to knock.

He missed Hirako. Considering how Hirako usually made him just as nervous, Kaneki understood the term “the devil you know” with an uncomfortable amount of clarity now. Kaneki was terrified of disappointing Hirako, but at least he could hide behind him and let him take care of interacting with others.

Biting his lip, Kaneki knocked firmly and cracked open the door. He froze for the barest of instants when everyone’s eyes turned to him, but he managed to get through the doorway. “H-hello,” Kaneki murmured. “My name is Kaneki Ken. I have been assigned to assist you with this case. Please take care of me.” Kaneki bent his spine in a stiff bow and could hear his pulse beating furiously in his ears.

“Oh? So this is our assistant, Amon-san. The one I mentioned.”

Kaneki looked up. The oldest man in the room eyed him curiously. A quick glance told Kaneki that he was probably the senior operative. His hand never left his quinque case.

Everyone stood to make the proper introductions.

“Wow, you look really young. How old are you?” The office aide received an elbow to his ribs for the trouble.

“Don’t be rude,” his co-worker hissed at him.

Kaneki hurriedly shook his head. “Ah, it’s no insult,” he insisted, shaking the hands offered to him. “I’m eighteen sir.”

Both of the aids’ eyes popped wide, and Kaneki suddenly wished he had lied. He closed his eyes and smeared a smile across his lips. He turned to the next person, and found himself looking up and up—

“Amon Koutarou,” the man said shortly.

Kaneki swallowed. “Kaneki Ken.”

Amon raised an eyebrow and turned back to sit down. Kaneki realized his mistake and hoped the burning in his face wasn’t visible.

“Ahh, Kaneki-kun, I’ve heard so much about you.” Kaneki turned. The old man was staring eagerly at his face, his hand extended.

Kaneki stiffened and shook the man’s hand. A breath shuddered out of his lungs and he passed it off as a laugh. “There’s not much to know.”

The man in front of him tilted his head. “Really?” He let the word hang for a few seconds before shrugging and turning away. He sank into his chair around the table. “I’m guessing you’ve been sent the file concerning the case.”

Kaneki quickly took an open seat. “Yes.”

The man raised his brows. “Well?” He prompted. “What do you think?”

Kaneki hesitated before he opened his folder. “Um,” he said intelligently. Kaneki didn’t _think_ anything. “I—” he took a breath and recovered—“I didn’t get your name, sir.”

The old man laughed. “I didn’t give it.” He tilted his head, a pleasant smile on his face.

Kaneki didn’t know how to respond to that. From the uncomfortable looks on the office workers, neither did they.

Amon sighed impatiently across the table. “Kaneki-san, this is First Class Mado.”

Mado chuckled under his breath and eyed Amon with amusement.

Kaneki still had no idea what to contribute, and he came back to what he knew. “We are tracking multiple mother-daughter pairs who have moved to the twentieth ward; we should focus on the suspects who haven’t enrolled in school.”

Mado nodded in understanding. “And why is that?”

Kaneki tried not to focus on the suspicious look Amon was giving his superior. “If they are fleeing persecution, I doubt they would want to risk exposing themselves to humans more than necessary.” The explanation only came out a bit stilted. Kaneki was at least used to Hirako asking for his logic.

“Ha! ‘Persecution.’ That’s a funny choice of words.” Mado closed his eyes and leaned back into his seat, that small smirk still etched into his face.

“It’s the nearest word I could find,” Kaneki defended, his shoulders tensing slightly.

  Mado raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Of course, of course.” He peeked one eye open to glance at Amon. “Did 723 place 745 in school?”

Amon looked at the papers on his desk. “No.”

Mado shrugged. “Not a bad place to look. Anyways, I think we should stakeout the book store. 723 has visited there multiple times.”

Kaneki was suddenly lost.

The chief bureau inspector nodded. “Consider it done. We can plant two agents in the surrounding street and one in the store. If it comes through we should be able to alert you with ample time to set up an ambush.”

“Then I think we are done here.”

OOO

“If he already had a target, why did he ask for my input?” Kaneki questioned.

Amon shrugged. He didn’t exactly want to entertain a new investigator, but he saw no way to politely refuse conversation since they were both heading the same direction.

“Mado-san values the opinions of his underlings. Maybe he wanted you to feel involved in the investigation. In any case, worrying does no good.”

Kaneki scratched his chin. “Of course. I’ll put it out of mind.”

“So, Kaneki-san, Amon-san,” Nara said eagerly, “would the two of you like to come to lunch with us? There’s a nice place around the corner.”

Kaneki stumbled. “Um,” he stalled, his heart starting to race, “I’m very sorry, but I promised that I would meet a friend after work.” That was the excuse he and Hirako had worked out for when Hirako wasn’t around to cover for him. Kaneki just hoped he sounded convincing.

Sarutobi shrugged. “Another time?”

Kaneki swallowed past the lump in his throat and nodded stiffly.

“Dose your friend work at the CCG?” Nara asked curiously.

Kaneki shook his head. “Ah, no, he’s a college student.”

“What major?”

Kaneki felt a wave of fondness wash over him. “Undeclared,” he murmured, a small smile settling on his lips. He used to nag Hide about his major all the time. “I haven’t had a chance to catch up with him since I started working with the CCG.”

“Did he go to a junior academy with you?” Sarutobi asked.

Kaneki shook his head. “No, we’ve been friends since childhood.”

Nara nodded. “You should bring him around some day after work; we could all get to know each other.”

Kaneki hesitated for just one instant before he marched through the RC Gate. “I don’t know if he would want to,” Kaneki admitted. Then he lied, so at least he had an excuse. “Hide isn’t exactly fond of the CCG.” Kaneki rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.

Nara grimaced. “That must be difficult.”

Sarutobi looked similarly uncomfortable, but then he looked past Kaneki and smiled in greeting. “Oh, hello Nagachika-san.”

Kaneki stopped dead.

“Heya, Sarutobi-san. I have a note from the front desk for you.”

And Kaneki watched frozen, as Hide brushed past him and handed over a folder. He didn’t even glance his way.

“Thank you, Nagachika-san.”

Hide grinned impishly. “I wouldn’t thank me yet; the receptionist didn’t look very happy.”

Sarutobi paled and adjusted his glasses. Hide laughed and finally looked Kaneki in the eyes. “Oh, hello.”

Nara took one look at Kaneki’s horrified face and gracefully took over introductions. “Nagachika-san, this Rank Three Kaneki. He recently transferred from the main branch to assist in our investigation.”

Hide glanced Kaneki up and down. “Well it’s nice to meet you. What’s with the eyepatch?”

The scripted response to that was “Oh, I’m near-sighted in my right eye.”

But Hide would know that was a lie.

So Kaneki just remained silent.

Sarutobi suddenly cursed under his breath. “Nara-san, I need a ride.”

“Is it—?”

“Yeah.”

Nara turned to them, his face drawn tight. “Please excuse us. There’s been an emergency.”

Amon looked at the two investigators with a flash of concern, but he didn’t say anything. When Kaneki didn’t follow, he quickened his pace and exited the lobby, throwing a scripted farewell over his shoulder.

And Kaneki was left with this best friend that acted like a stranger.

“Good luck,” Hide called out cheerfully to the retreating backs of the office investigators. He turned to Kaneki and smiled like they were strangers, grabbed his hand like they were best friends, and led him out the front door.

They walked in silence for a block, Kaneki still too terrified and confused because _what was he doing at the CCG?_

“So, Rank 3 Investigator? That’s new.”

Kaneki remained silent. He couldn’t feel his lips.

Hide stopped walking. Kaneki gripped his briefcase, his palms slippery with sweat. Hide breathed in deeply through his nose and pursed his lips and that was the only warning Kaneki got before Hide was hugging him.

“I’m sorry for pretending back there. I just didn’t want to blow my cover, you know?”

“Hide,” Kaneki croaked, and he was horrified to see Hide look him in the eyes with pity— “What are you _doing?_ ”

“Well, right now I’m talking to my best friend who dropped off the face of the earth.”

“At the CCG,” Kaneki hissed. “What are you doing at the CCG?”

“Ohhh,” Hide stretched out, as if this was a sincere revelation. “Well I was searching for my best friend who dropped off the face of the earth and refused to return my calls. That’s really rude, you know?”

And it was such a normal thing for him to say that Kaneki automatically defended, “I lost my phone.”

“So you forgot my number?” A flash of hurt sparked in Hide’s eyes and Kaneki stepped forward, panicking because the last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt Hide.

“No!” And the hurt was gone. Kaneki knew he had been played.

“Then what happened?”

And Kaneki would knew in a fraction of a second that he would say anything but the truth.

“Nothing happened.” Kaneki said.

“Okay.”

Hide reached for Kaneki’s hand and held it loosely, and Kaneki knew he could easily wrench it out of his grasp and flee, but he didn’t.

When Hide tugged him along, Kaneki followed loyally.

“Well, you will be glad to know that I have been regularly breaking in to your apartment to water your plants.”

Kaneki gave a startled laugh. “Hide,” he groaned, “those have been dead for months.”

“Well, that’s strange,” Hide said accusingly, “because they are finally turning back to green and have grown a centimeter or so. I swear, you must have a black thumb or something, because it should be impossible to maim that shrub I got you.”

Kaneki laughed and the feeling was so foreign that he couldn’t stop. He doubled over, and his hand slipped from Hide’s grasp, and he brought them to his mouth to try to stifle the sniggering. And then, he was crouched down, his back pressed solidly against a brick building, Hide’s arm slung comfortingly over his shoulders as he sobbed into his hands.

“Hi-hide,” he moaned, his voice breaking like glass, “I missed you.”

“Yeah,” Hide said sadly. “Me too.”

Kaneki’s face crumpled, and he wrapped his arms around Hide’s torso and buried his face in his shoulder. Hide patted his back. “It’s ok, buddy. It’s ok.”

Kaneki twisted his hands in Hide’s jacket and sniffled. He drew back, and Hide’s eyes widened for just a moment. “You’ve lost weight.”

There was no judgement in his voice and Kaneki just nodded.

Hide took a deep breath and let it out. He stood and tugged Kaneki to his feet.

“I know,” he began uncertainly, but then he corrected himself, his resolve solidifying in his tone, “I know that things must have been rough these past few weeks, and, Kaneki, you don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to. I will never make you talk about anything you don’t want to.”

Kanek sniffed and tried to wipe away the moisture from his eyes, but he nodded.

“But please, man, please don’t cut me out.” And Kaneki saw Hide’s face, the way it was too tight around the eyes and how all the muscles in his jaw were strained. His voice didn’t break. Hide’s voice never did. But he was pleading and pained and Kaneki never wanted to be the one to do that to him.

And something lurched in Kaneki’s chest. “I promise,” he breathed.

OOOOO

Hide dragged him to Anteiku.

The smell of coffee was over whelming and it felt a bit like home and a bit like torture.

This is where he met Rize.

This is where it all started.

He and Hide took their seats at their usual place. The café was almost empty at this time of day—it was quiet except for the occasional clink of glass on wood or the whirl of an electric grinder behind the counter.

Their normal waitress came up, her eyes sour and locked on the far corner of the room, where a mother and child were sitting, having a hushed discussion that Kaneki couldn’t make out. He eyes slid dully to the two of them and widened in shock. Her notepad slipped from her fingertips.

Then the spell was broken. The waitress cursed under her breath, and bent down to snatch the notepad off the floor. She stared at Hide. “So you found him?”

Kaneki frowned, confused and a bit uncertain, but Hide laughed.

“Yeah, he was a wily one, but I found him.”

The girl slowly nodded. “That’s good.” She stared at Kaneki, unabashedly, before dropping her eyes and raising her pen to paper. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a hot chocolate with caramel drizzle,” Hide said cheerfully.

Kaneki bit his lip. “Water,” he finally said, “and a small black coffee.”

The waitress nodded, and her eyes slid over Kaneki catching on the badge on his chest. “You work for the CCG?” She asked. “That must be a tough job.”

Kaneki stiffened. “Yes,” he agreed. “It very dangerous.”

The waitress hummed in agreement. She turned and left to fill their order.

Hide grinned. “Look at you! Being all flirty.”

Kaneki shook his head. “Hide, there is not a single world in this universe in which that would be considered flirting.”

Hide raised his hands in defense and leaned back perilously in his chair. “Sure, man.” Hide glanced out the window. “So, what’s the case you’re working on like?”

Kaneki breathed in deeply and Hide interrupted him. “I’m not asking for your life story—just what’s up right now.”

“It’s classified,” Kaneki said slowly.

“Oh, come one,” Hide complained. “I work there too, ya know.”

“Hide,” Kaneki said, hysteria pitching his voice high, “you’re an office aide.”

“I have a pay check and a pension and a non-disclosure agreement.” Hide tilted his head. “We can’t avoid talking about it forever.”

Kaneki ran a hand through his hair. “We’re tracking two ghouls that moved here.”

Hide nodded and shot a distracted thanks to the waitress as she set down their drinks.

“The investigation team already figured out who it is,” Kaneki said. “I’m kind of just here because they have nowhere else to put me.”

“They know who it is?”

“Yeah,” Kaneki said dully. He didn’t really understand how someone could dig up a grave site, but what was done was done. “The suspect buried a mask that links them to another ghoul, so the investigators are just trying to figure out where this ghoul lives.”

Hide took a sip of his drink and nodded. “Well,” he said. “I’ve been acing Asian history—I think this one kid tried to cheat off my test so I kind of wrecked his score by putting all the wrong answers on there and redoing it at the last second.”

Kaneki raised his eyebrows. “That seems a bit vengeful on your part.”

“Eh.” Hide shrugged. “The bastard has had it coming for a while—he kept trying to convince the school that you were dead.”

Kaneki choked on his own breath and coughed. “What?”

“Like I said,” Hide muttered into his drink. “Bastard.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, so this is here, its kinda queer and the author could really use a beer. God it took forever to write this but fuck it im posting it.
> 
> expect the next chapter in about a month and if I get some reviews probably sooner lol, tbh im in constant need of validation. Check out my tumblr; tokyoghoulmutiny for some hella touka art coming your way soon


	8. Some Things Never Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touka isn't feeling the peace on earth and good will towards men right now, and in all honesty no one can fault her for that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this goes out to all the wonderful people who shared their support and love in the comments section! I was so legitimately happy to see everyone's responses that I wrote this chapter at light speed. I hope you enjoy!!

Breathe in. Touka set down the coffee. Breathe out. Touka nodded and gave the customers a fixed smile. The customers who worked at the CCG. The customers who were hunting Hinami and Ryoko. The customers that had just revealed that the doves knew.

Breathe in. Touka placed her tray down behind the counter. Breathe out. Touka walked into the store room and stared at the rows of dusty plates and stacks of crates full of coffee beans that they had yet to process. Touka gritted her jaw and clenched her fists and fought off the sudden urge to shatter and splinter every single thing in the room.

 _They won’t get them_ , Touka thought suddenly. _I won’t let them._

A heavy hand fell on her shoulder and Touka jerked away, her pulse so loud in her ears that she could barely hear. The old manager looked at her, his eyes sad.

Touka didn’t want his pity, if that’s what he was here for.

“What are we going to do?” she snarled.

Yoshimura sighed and looked to the cabinets. He grabbed a canister of deep roast and replied, “The doves are unsure about where Ms. Ryoko is residing. We can move them to the twenty fourth war—“

“And what about Hinami?!” Touka hissed. The twenty fourth ward wasn’t a place for children and the manager was lying if he said otherwise. Hell, fucking Touka wouldn’t live in the twenty fourth because only the desperate were willing to go down there.

“I am thinking of Hinami. I’m also thinking about Anteiku and you as well.”

“Don’t,” Touka snapped. “I’m not a factor in this one.”

“It will only be for a few weeks. By then, the two of them will be ready for their new identities in the sixth ward.”

Touka grimaced. “We could—“

“No.” And wasn’t that a mountain of the word? Touka wasn’t ready to back down. She would move the earth to keep the doves away.

“I could do it! You wouldn’t have to get your hands dirty!”

“I said ‘no.’” The Manager shook his head, and when he looked at her, it wasn’t with pity. “I will handle this, Touka. As you said, you are not a factor in this. Please return to work and put this out of mind.”

Touka stiffened and straightened her back. “Of course,” she said coldly. She turned away and blanked her expression and tried to pretend like that reprimand hadn’t stung. She loved being reminded that she was a useless child.

She returned to the front. She stared at the two doves for the smallest moment. _If you hurt them_ , she thought dully, _I’ll kill you_.

OOOOO

“There’s been no sign of _Mother_ or _Daughter_ ,” Amon said bitterly.

Mado tilted his head. “That’s a shame.”

Kaneki remained silent. This was the general trend of the case for the past week, and every day Amon got more frustrated and Mado more vicious.

“I think we should take a walk and see if we notice anything suspicious.” Mado stood and smiled. “I finally received my newest quinque and I’d like to test it out.”

Kaneki shifted in his seat, and that drew Mado’s eye. Their relationship was tense for a few reasons. Mado knew. Kaneki knew Mado knew. Mado had never said anything even vaguely suggestive after their first meeting. In fact, he barely said anything to him besides general greetings and giving orders.

But Kaneki had no idea if that would last indefinitely.

Kaneki averted his eyes and ran right into another awful situation.

“Kaneki-san,” Ippei asked excitedly, “are you free for lunch today?”

Kaneki wilted. This past week, Kaneki had fought off his fair share of lunch invitations. He hated being rude, but slowly that was the impression going around the office. Kaneki tried to think of another way to avoid it.

“Actually, Kaneki-kun, I was hoping you would join us.” Mado shrugged. “If you’re hungry, though, I suppose—“

“No,” Kaneki said hurriedly. “I can assist you.” He shot Mado a thankful glance as he made his apologies to the stood up office aides.

Mado grinned and ignored the confused looks Amon was shooting him. “Let’s go.”

The three of them left the building. Mado chatted about his daughter—she was doing well with her assigned squad. Kaneki could mostly tune him out. It had been a while since he had walked around the south side of the ward—a new flower store had gone into business, replacing the old book store that Kaneki used to visit occasionally before he found Anteiku.

 A girl strolled out the door as the three of them were walking by, and Kaneki faltered for a moment. With her long hair and white dress and pretty heels, she looked a little like Rize. He jerked his head away and tore his gaze from her eyes. Her scent stung his nose and made his mouth water. He had to eat—he needed to call Washuu and request some of the _whatever_ that they gave him in those canisters, because he had been assure that it wasn’t human. That was really the only reason he could stomach it.

“Kaneki-san?” Kaneki was jerked back by Amon’s sharp voice. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Kaneki said quickly. “Why would I not be?”

“Well,” Mado mused, “you were about to walk into on-coming traffic.”

Kaneki blanched and realized how close he was to the road. He took a step back. “I apologize. I was lost in thought.”

Mado laughed. “We realized.”

“I used to live around this area,” Kaneki explained dully. He looked around and recognized the cross streets. That graffiti was new.

Amon tilted his head and frowned. “Kaneki-san, when did you become an investigator?”

Kaneki bit his lip. “What day is it?”

Amon told him.

“Um, it was about seven to eight weeks ago.” What would he count as becoming an investigator; discovering he was—was tied to ghouls or being formally given the job? That changed the answer quite a bit.

The groove between Amon’s eyebrows deepened. “And you never went to an academy?” He clarified.

Kaneki nodded stiffly. He could see where these questions were going. His eyes flickered to Mado who seemed to enjoy his discomfort. He cocked an eyebrow and smirked and didn’t say a thing to Amon who asked accusingly—

“How did you become an investigator?”

Kaneki looked away to readjust his eye patch. “I was scouted by Director Washuu after I had a run in with a ghoul.”

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say, because something angry flashed in Amon’s eye. “And they let you become a field investigator without any training?”

Mado reached into his pocket and said admonishingly, “Amon, I’m sure Kaneki is completely capable. He has three kills to his name.” Which was the truth, but not really.

Amon’s jaw tightened, but he looked away. Kaneki avoided looking at the blatant frustration on his face, because it only reminded Kaneki of how badly he was failing in acting natural.

Mado’s high voice broke through the static in his brain. “Wonderful!” Kaneki looked over, and Mado’s eyes were bright as he held the cell phone to his ear. “Follow but do not engage.” He snapped the phone shut.

He grinned at Amon and swung his brief case. His gaze was a bit feverish and his smile wicked. “We have a sighting.”

OOOOO

Hinami was sad. Ryoko knew this because she was grieving for the same thing as her daughter. She knew that staying in their room constantly wasn’t helping. She knew that the doves were watching.

She knew every single one of those things. She held them close to her chest. They plagued her thoughts at nights, when Hinami grimaced in her sleep. Ryoko wondered sometimes if she had murdered their chances with her sentimentality. It was a waiting game now, she supposed.

Who would blink first? Would she drag her daughter into the twenty fourth ward or would the doves find them? Those were the options, because her chances of leaving the ward undetected had fallen significantly. Her face was plastered over checkpoints and transportation stops—Touka had checked several times over the past week and reported back to her.

Ryoko felt a bit bad putting that task on the girl’s shoulders, but everyday she said the same words and everyday Ryoko felt a little glimmer of hope.

There were no pictures of Hinami. Not a single one. And that meant that even though Ryoko was trapped, Hinami was free. And that would have to be enough for now.

So one sleepy, rainy, morning, she woke Hinami with a soft smile and quiet words. Ryoko pulled a scarf over her face and a hat over her head and daintily dropped into the back alley from Anteiku’s second story. Hinami, bravely followed even though she had never jumped from those heights and Ryoko caught her in her arms and quickly set her down.

“We have to be fast,” she murmured, and Hinami looked so happy that Ryoko couldn’t bring herself to change her mind.

The mud got on the hem of her dress, and she quickly opened an old umbrella. _It would be a quick in and out,_ she explained _. No loitering, just a quick run there and back._ She took Hinami’s hand and smiled fondly at the mist of rain that had collected on Hinami’s long eyelashes.

Hinami had already run out of books—one trip couldn’t hurt.

One trip couldn’t hurt.

OOOO

 

One trip could hurt.

 

OOOO

Kaneki knew logically, what the ghouls looked like. It didn’t prepare him. He stood with Ippei and Yasumoto, cutting off access to an escape route. He didn’t see ghouls. He saw a mom and a daughter.

“Hinami,” he heard the mother whisper. She hugged her daughter tightly. Kaneki could see her hands trembling. Wings exploded out of her back, wrapping the two of them in a protective cocoon. “Run,” she breathed.

Hinami stumbled as she ran. Amon stepped to intercept and the blades of flesh flew towards him. Amon leaned to the side, and they nicked him below his eye.

“I won’t let you,” the mother said, and Kaneki heard the desperation in her voice.

Amon scoffed. His eyes were as cold as ice and his voice burned with contempt. “Don’t get cocky, trash.”

Trash. Not ghoul. Trash. This is how Amon saw ghouls. Kaneki stiffened.

He knew he could cut around and follow the girl. He knew these roads better than his name. But he received no order, so he didn’t move. He didn’t want to move, he realized dully. He wanted that child to escape. Rain dripped off the tip of his nose.

He knew what it was like to become parentless.

Mado shook his head and grinned. “You know, I hate it when ghoul’s mimic people. It’s disgusting.”

The mother narrowed her eyes and drew her kagune up around her.

Mado was like electricity, the flicker-buzz of a lightbulb about to burst into flames. He was alive, more so than Kaneki had ever seen. Right now, he didn’t look old or weird. He looked like death itself. “I’ve been wanting to use this for a while. It looks like I’ll have a full set soon.”

Mado flicked open his briefcase, and Kaneki tried to tune out the sound of the mother’s screams.

OOOO

Hinami ran back. She knew Anteiku’s smell like her own by now. She smashed through the front door, and careened into Irimi’s arms.

She heard glass shatter. Irimi scooped her into her arms, and ran her fingers through her hair as she ran her up the stairs. “Mom,” she whimpered. “Mom, she needs—“

“Shhhh,” Irimi soothed, “It’s okay.”

Hinami writhed, because it wasn’t okay! “No she needs—“

Irimi didn’t let go. “Hinami,” she said softly, and Hinami struggled in terror, because whenever anyone’s voice was that soft, it was something horrible.

“No!”

“Hinami, it’s too late.”

Hinami sobbed. Her chest was collapsing in on itself. “No,” she moaned.

Irimi looked up. The manager stood in the door way. His eyes were sad, and he shook his head. Irimi nodded. He turned and left and Irimi heard him open drawers, the rustle of fabric, and the sound of porcelain sliding against skin.

Irimi relaxed. If there was a chance, the manager would take care of it. Irimi just concentrated on keeping a hold of Hinami until she tired herself out.

Irimi remembered doing the same for her younger sister. She remembered her second in command, years later, doing the same for her when her sister had died.

She understood the art of pulling together a person about to fall apart until they could settle, like coffee dregs at the bottom of a cup.

OOOO

Kaneki stared at the ghoul’s slumping body. Her head rolled gently over the concrete, and it bumped lightly against his foot. It looked up at him happily, eyes calm and half lidded in a soft smile that dribbled blood.

Kaneki dropped his weapon, stumbled back against an alley wall, doubled over, and puked his guts up.

Breathing heavily, Kaneki wiped away bile with the back of his shaking hand. He looked up. Ippei and Yasutomo were respectfully looking away. Yasumoto was calling someone to come collect the body. Mado was poking at the corpse’s kagune, his expression curious.

Amon stared at Kaneki with barely restrained anger, the cut below his eye weeping blood. Kaneki looked away.

 _What’s done is done_ , he thought.

He killed before.

 _But not like this!_ Kaneki gritted his jaw, and self-loathing washed over him. That was self-defense. This was not. This was murder.

 _You can’t murder a ghoul,_ he thought numbly.

Then what is this?

This, Kaneki supposed, was the blood and rain water soaking into his shoes.

He had done nothing. He hadn’t needed to—Mado had kept the ghoul occupied. No one had fled his direction. All Kaneki had done was stand frozen, with his sword pressed numbly between his palms. He hadn’t partaken in this.

But by standing silent, he had allowed it to happen.

All Kaneki could see was little girls weeping and screaming as they had their family ripped away. _This is starting to become a trend_ , he noticed.

He was always allowing people to kill mothers. He was always tasked with killing children. He was always too weak to say no and too scared to act and do as he was told. That was a failure on two fronts. He wondered if one day he would be beheaded, left to bleed freely into running water.

OOOO

“We should kill the doves!”

“And bring ten more to the ward?” Manager shook his head.

Touka snarled and bared her teeth. “They _killed_ Ms. Ryoko,” She said furiously. “It would be pathetic if we didn’t fight back!”

The manager shook his head again and sighed, his eyes closed and face pained. “The truly pathetic thing is for one to be consumed by revenge and forget to live.”

Touka stiffened. She set her jaw and glared him. “Are you talking about me?” she said dangerously. If he said yes, Touka knew that she would lose it.

He didn’t say yes.

He just looked at her, with nothing but ugly pity and detachment.

Touka gritted her teeth. Everyone looked her with those dead eyes, and it pissed her off to no end. They were all cowards. Plain fucking cowards with no decency. Touka didn’t care. She didn’t need them to do what she could do on her own.

She slammed out of the meeting room and stalked down the hallway. She paused for just a moment outside of Hinami’s room. The light was off. Touka could hear even breathing and she couldn’t bring herself to wake her. She couldn’t bring herself to think about Hinami sleeping underground.

Touka walked home to her apartment in the rain. Her clothes were soaked by the time she got home, and her hair dripped like ink over her face. She tossed her backpack to the side and locked the door behind her.

She was a bit calmer now. Calm like a thunderstorm rolling in. Her movements were completely smooth and controlled as she pulled off her ill-fitting school clothes and tugged on an old army jacket and shorts. The fabric stuck to her skin like tar and she hated the feeling. She tugged on her track shoes and ran her fingers softly over the surface of her mask.

She wondered for a moment what type of mask Ayato had. She had gotten hers after he left. She was certain he did the same. He probably would scoff at her still being so attached to bunnies.

Touka snorted and tossed the mask onto her bed. Now wasn’t the time for sentimentality. She left her room to bathe in the cool light of wool sky overcast. She caught her reflection in the mirror, and Touka dully registered how absent her eyes were. She was all iced over fury, and only her veins were glowing with it. She couldn’t afford to show her hand yet, and her own impersonality sickened her.

She could hardly recognize herself. Since when had she been so calculating about a fight? That had always been something real and present, even it just served to empty her veins. Or get food. Or protect Ayato. Touka hadn’t needed to do any of those things in a while—maybe she had just forgotten how to feel anything besides an ill-tasting contentment.

_This isn’t a fight. This is revenge. There’s a hell of a difference._

Touka shook out her wet hair and drew up her hood. She didn’t have time to focus on how she felt. She left her apartment and didn’t bother to lock the door behind her. She wasn’t going to school tomorrow. That much was certain, at least.

She didn’t know if she would go back at all.

OOOO

Later that night, she murdered someone.

She stared at his face, his eyes wide with shock even in death.

He had it coming. Touka always made sure people did—she had shit taste in meals, Ayato used to tell her. She scoffed and kicked the man’s head to the side so he would quit staring at her. She heard his neck snap, and she considered desecrating his corpse and leaving him out as a warning.

This fucker thought he was strong? Strong enough to grab her and snatch her away? Strong enough to hold a knife to her throat and whisper for her to come quietly?

Please.

She was tempted to leave the body. She didn’t want this bastard anywhere near her, even in death. But she also knew that she was going to be fighting for the next few day and Anteiku rations weren’t going to cut it. Anteiku might actually cut her off once they realized what she had done.

Touka wondered what she would do if they kicked her out. How would that happen? Would she just go rot in the twenty fourth with Hinami? She didn’t have money or resources to keep living as a human. If that happened, she would be back to fighting. Every day, every hour. The thought was repulsive and familiar. She could survive like that. She had survived like that. 

Touka looked at the main road and decided nobody would find the body for the next few minutes. She made sure there wasn’t any noticeable blood on her face and clothes and she jogged to a convenience store two blocks away. She bought a roll of heavy duty trash bags and paid with her crumpled savings.

It was Anteiku policy for members to not keep suspicious things in their homes if possible. Touka broke that rule with her mask, but she had a refrigerator that had a few necessities that she never touched. It looked like she was going to have a full fridge for the next few days. She had no idea if an entire human could fit in the freezer, but fuck it if she wasn’t going to try.

She had already gathered everything she needed. Ms.Ryoko’s blood had soaked into the concrete. Touka didn’t have the best nose, but she could still pick up blood. Every ghoul could. It smelled like rotten fish or life itself depending on who shed it. She had a few other flashes. Someone had thrown up, and it almost smelled like a ghoul, but not quite. She didn’t waste her time trying to figure it out.

Then it was just a matter of surfing the web. People had already uploaded footage. Touka forced herself to watch and listen as a young man whispered _holy shit_ and dropped his phone when some white haired fucker decapitated Ms. Ryoko. It was taken from an upper level apartment, and Touka saw the scrawny body of the boy who should have died.

 _You forced my hand_ , she thought. Dove boy was about to become dead boy. She kinda wished she had spat in their coffee the other day. It felt a bit weird to be planning to kill customers.

When she got back to the body, someone was crouched over it.

Touka froze for half a second before the sound of chewing registered, and then she just felt annoyed. Could people just find their own fucking food occasionally?

“Hey—“ The ghoul whirled around, and Touka registered that they couldn’t have been older than thirteen—“you know that’s rude, right?”

The child’s face crumpled into a snarl—with their choppy cut and bad bleach job, Touka couldn’t tell if it was a boy or girl—but their hands were shaking. They looked rough—a few weeks homeless. This might have been their first meal in a while. Touka guessed that was the only reason why they didn’t run, because they were trembling like a leaf, their black eyes blown wide in fear and anger.

“I found it,” they hissed angrily.

“And I killed it,” Touka replied.

The kid clenched their fists, and Touka thought for just a second that this little kid might try to fight her for scraps. Touka took a step forward, and they almost fell on their ass in their haste to get away.

Touka snorted. Then she wanted to deck herself in the fucking face because she was pathetic for being amused by a scared little orphan. Wasn’t she here because of an orphan? Where the fuck had her sense of decency gone? Was she that angry? Was she that cold?

Touka’s mouth was suddenly too dry and she swallowed. She reached down and tore off an entire arm from the corpse and tossed it to them. They stared at her with wide eyes and then they tore into the arm with their teeth.

The sight made Touka hungry, but she didn’t have time and she needed to ration her supplies. She had to at least give Anteiku half so they wouldn’t be suspicious. She had to have an excuse to go by Anteiku because otherwise she would be too disgusted with herself for being such piece of shit. Anteiku helped ghouls. She was an agent of Anteiku. She had forgotten that.

 _I’m too fucking nice,_ Touka thought as she stepped forward to tear the body into manageable chunks. “I have to bag this up and get it home, and I really don’t want to make two trips. Help me out and you can have some more to go.”

No one ever accused Touka of being good with children, but the kid didn’t turn tail and run or try to attack her when Touka looked away to dismantle the corpse, so Touka counted it as a win. She hadn’t planned on going by Anteiku, but fuck it—she wasn’t going to let some kid run around homeless in the ward.

She tossed the kid a bag full of organs. The kid’s was face covered in blood. “Come on.”

She turned away and held her breath, because she had no idea if they would follow and she didn’t have time to drag a feral kid kicking and screaming to Anteiku. She relaxed when she heard their hesitant footsteps behind her. It wasn’t a long walk.

They got to the back door, and Irimi answered without Touka knocking. That impressed the kid. She heard them gasp in surprise and it was such an absurd situation that Touka almost laughed.

“I brought food,” Touka said bluntly and Irimi glanced at the kid for half a second before smiling. It wasn’t for Touka’s benefit. Touka could tell she was disappointed and tired. Touka didn’t give a single fuck.

“Thank you, Touka. I was just closing up, but the freezer is still unlocked.”

“I’ll finish up if you want.” Touka wasn’t going to burn this bridge quite yet. If she didn’t die or get disowned, she still needed her job.

Irimi nodded. “Thank you.” Irimi turned and Touka heard her flip the main lights on. Touka maneuvered the two bags through the back door. When she glanced back, the kid was throwing glances down the street, their mind whirling to decide if they should run or trust her.

Touka cocked her head and tried to think of something encouraging to say. “Don’t get blood on the furniture, or you’re cleaning it.”

The kid shot her a dirty look, and Touka snorted because it looked exactly like Ayato’s pouty face. The kid marched on in like they owned the place, and Touka found herself smiling. “Make yourself welcome and all, but the freezer is the other way.”

The kid blushed and grimaced, and Touka walked past the counter and down the hall. She tried to keep her voice light as she said, “I don’t know what ward you’re from, but the twentieth is pretty peaceful. That’s mostly because of this place.” Touka settled her bags against her hip and pulled open the freezer door.

“What is this place?” The kid asked quietly, their voice a bit scratchy from disuse. Their thin limbs were straining to hold their bag, and Touka had made sure to give them the lightest burden. Their forehead was beaded with sweat.

“This is Anteiku. We help ghouls.” Touka tossed her bags onto an empty counter. She would deal with storage when the blood was a bit more congealed.

She reached for the child’s bag and they reeled back, clutching it to their chest. “You said I could have some for helping.” They were almost panicked, their kakugan inking over their eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Touka said absently, her movements and poise perfectly smooth. “What do you want? I wouldn’t touch the liver or lungs, but he seemed to have decent intestines.”

The kid bit their lip, and said hesitantly, “I don’t care.”

“You sure?” Touka asked. “You did help me carry it.” God, this felt like a more difficult balancing act than going to school. Hinami was so calm and mild, and this child couldn’t be more opposite.

The kid looked down. “Um, a leg. I want a leg.”

“Sounds good.” Touka opened one bags, and the scent of hot blood slammed into her. She tried to avoid getting her sleeves dirty, and tore off the limb at the knee. She handed it over, and the kid set the bag down to grab their reward.

Touka made herself look busy. “You know,” She said evenly, “we have an open room upstairs. You could stay there for a few days.”

The child stopped gnawing on the leg, and Touka didn’t look at them. She kept dumping the various body parts on the counter and resigned herself to retiring her shirt to the trash. The things she did to keep a cover. “You would have to leave the bathroom the way you found it and not steal anything.”

The kid shot her a dirty look. “I’m not a thief.”

Touka raised her eyebrows. They narrowed their eyes in confusion before a distinct expression of embarrassment settled on their face. “I thought someone just left him,” they insisted.

“Well, since you’re not a thief, I guess I won’t have to worry about you stealing anything, but you still would have to leave the bathroom neat.” Touka said sternly.

“I never said I’d stay,” they said.

Touka shrugged. “You never said you wouldn’t.”

The kid bit their lip and Touka added, “It’s a free shower and a warm bed and no strings attached. Take it or leave it.” It wasn’t precisely the truth. Touka doubted that Anteiku would let this child stay long. She doubted the kid would want to stay long. But Touka knew that a bed and a shower shouldn’t be luxuries, and she was ashamed to admit that she had almost forgotten.

Touka wasn’t going to quit. She knew that. Hinami needed the doves to die, and Touka was the only one who was willing to do it. But she also knew that she had a duty to the present moment.

“Okay.” They looked so small.

Touka felt her knees go weak with relief. The tension in her shoulders melted. God, she was such a sucker. “Well, I’ll show you to your room then.” Touka cocked her head to the door and walked out. “What’s your name, kid?”

The kid in question was about to put their bloody hands on the rail that ran up the stairs, and Touka lightly smacked their hand away. “I wasn’t kidding when I said you’d be cleaning it.”

The kid gave a startled laugh. Touka didn’t look to see their expression. “Kohaku.”

Touka nodded. “Kohaku, welcome to Anteiku.”

OOOO

Kaneki had ignored Hide’s texts from yesterday and gone straight to bed, and he had the suspicion that he was going to pay for it somehow. He saw the notifications and tiredly shut his phone. He didn’t want Hide to know, and if he spoke to Hide, Kaneki knew he would ask.

 He caught a cab to the CCG office and trudged inside. Rain and mist had already caught on the fabric of his jacket and settled into the pores of his skin. The air inside was freezing, and Kaneki felt it numb his nose. He sniffled, and murmured subdued greetings to the various staff whose names he vaguely knew. They smiled, and Kaneki couldn’t get his lips to twitch up in reply.

He turned up at his usual meeting place, and Amon’s glare needled at his patience from the moment he walked in the door.

Mado was grinning. There was a definite skip to his step. He caught Kaneki’s eye, and his grin widened. “Kaneki-kun!”

Kaneki entertained the idea of walking out the door and just throwing himself into oncoming traffic for a small moment. Instead he bowed his head respectfully and greeted his superior. “Good morning, Fist Class Mado.”

“Let’s take a walk,” Mado said airily, and he waved Kaneki up to his side. “Sorry, Amon, this is just for our ears.”

Amon was practically leaking frustration into the air and Kaneki didn’t pause on his way right back out the door he had just walked in. He heard the sound of a heavy folder being slapped onto a table top, and the door swung shut. He felt a dull flare of pity for anyone else in the room, but he mostly just felt relieved.

Amon was too intense for his liking. Everytime Kaneki saw him, all he could hear was cold disgust. _“Trash.”_

“Amon can have a terrible temper occasionally,” Mado said evenly. “Especially when he feels like someone is lying to him.”

Kaneki swallowed past the lump in his throat. The sound of their footsteps seemed unbearably loud in the empty hall way. The office was mostly empty today, but Mado and Amon didn’t believe in taking the weekends easy. “I haven’t lied to him.”

Mado nodded. “Not in words at least. However, he knows that you are hiding something.”

“How could he know that?” Kaneki said defensively.

“Well,” Mado considered, “it could be because I told him.”

Kaneki jerked back. “What?”

“Oh, relax.” Mado waved Kaneki forward. “I told him that I couldn’t tell him everything about who we would be working with because it was classified.”

Kaneki took a deep breath. He wanted to snap at this man. Who gave him the right to reveal what was private? “Why would you tell him that?”

Mado chuckled. “You’ve seen his temper—that could ruin our professional relationship. It seemed a lot easier to be honest from the beginning and have you deal with the resentment.”

Kaneki opened his mouth, but he couldn’t seem to make any noise. It was pragmatic and well thought out and incredibly selfish. Kaneki had never shrugged a burden onto another.

“However, Kaneki-san, I also dislike lying to my subordinates.”

Kaneki felt his fingertips go numb. “Please,” he breathed, “please don’t tell them.”

Mado shot him an annoyed look. “Please,” he replied, “don’t insult me.” Mado turned a corner and knocked on a random door. “I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I have no respect for privacy.”

Kaneki ducked his head. “I’m sorry.”

Mado hummed noncommittally and opened the door once he heard the lack of a signal that anyone was inside. “That isn’t what I wanted to speak to you about. But Amon will eventually figure it out—he’s stubborn like that. Be prepared to talk to him when that happens.”

Kaneki ducked through the door. He leaned against the table and felt the weight of that prophecy settle on his shoulders.

“I wanted to talk to you about your behavior during our confrontation with 723. Your response was unacceptable.”

Kaneki bit his lip and felt a wave of disgust roll over him. “I’m sorry.”

Mado laughed. “Don’t apologize. It isn’t you fault.”

Kaneki’s eyes widened. “It isn’t?”

“Please don’t kid yourself. Investigators spend years training to respond to such issues. It is frankly only because you are such a novelty that you are already in the field.” Mado peered at him curiously. “Besides, you are practically defenseless without access to a kagune. I don’t see how you are much different from a child with a gun.”

“I’ve bee—“

“That wasn’t an insult and it doesn’t require a defense.” Mado shook his head and sighed. “You have exceptionally think skin.”

Kaneki didn’t know how to respond to that. Mado didn’t seem to require a response because he continued, “You essentially have two quinques. One is in that suit case and the other is in your spine. I think you would be able to use the second one with much greater ease, so I kept wondering why you refuse to use it.”

“I can’t,” Kaneki said. “I don’t know how.”

“That isn’t an excuse. One can learn how to use any quinque. The only explanation I can think of is that you are afraid to use it.”

“I’m not afraid of it,” Kaneki insisted.

_Liar_

“Then you’re afraid of how others will respond when they learn about what you are.”

“And what exactly am I?” Kaneki snapped.

Mado tilted his head. “Technically, you’re a half-ghoul. Morally, you’re a human who has been ‘cursed.’ I admit, I wouldn’t have offered you a job, but it isn’t your fault concerning what has happened to you and you need to quit acting like it is.”

“I don’t act like it’s my fault!” Kaneki yelled, because what right did this man have to lecture him about _behavior_?

“So hiding and lying to those around you is normal behavior for you?” Mado lifted is arms, as if to say _eh, what can you do?_ “In that case, I suppose you’re just fundamentally flawed.”

Kaneki’s face flashed with heat. He stalked to the door, but Mado casually stepped in front of him and leaned back, that same untouchable, quizzical expression on his face.

“By doing nothing, you are an active danger to everyone around you. I tried to let you act as an independent investigator, but you have shown no initiative. If that ghoul had been more combative, your inactions would have hurt your subordinates.”

Kaneki took a step back and shook his head. If that ghoul hadn’t been combative, maybe he shouldn’t have slaughtered it in the streets. And since when did Kaneki have _subordinates_?

“Ignorance isn’t an excuse. You agreed to act as an investigator. If your hesitance to defend and attack stems from your lack of training, then you should seek to remedy that. If it stems from your fear that you won’t be accepted, then you need to get over it.”

“I can’t just get over it!” Kaneki rubbed at his throbbing eyes, his face screwed up and a painful lump forming at the back of his throat. “I’m not human. How am I supposed to get over it?”

“You take your pain,” Mado said slowly, as if to a child, “and you breathe through it. And you move on.”

 Kaneki felt the tears he had been trying to rub away flood down his cheeks. Mado was pitiless. He said evenly, “A ghoul is a being that kills humans to survive. Have you killed to eat? No. I already know you haven’t. You wouldn’t have gotten this job if you had.”

Mado didn’t know how close Kaneki came sometimes. How his mind strayed to food whenever he was around people with nothing to do. He didn’t know how his stomach was cramping, hunger flaring up in response to stress. 

“You are a ghoul investigator,” Mado continued, “even if you have no training or skills, and I expect you to carry yourself as one. That means keeping composed during confrontation. That means showing no mercy to ghouls, no matter how human they appear to act. I am not asking for an apology and I don’t want one. In fact, I’m not asking for anything. You will do your job because it is what you agreed to do.”

Mado took a step forward, and his expression mild and detached. “Start figuring out how to breach the subject with others because you will eventually have to—and if someone judges or acts hostile to you, they are not worth your concern or regard. Are we clear?”

Kaneki shuddered and nodded.

Mado stepped away. “Return at your earliest convenience. We still need to track daughter.”

OOOOO

“Where are you going?”

Touka froze. She had ended up falling asleep on the couch and had lost a whole morning of staking out the scene. “I have places to go, things to do.”

Kohaku glanced around the room. They looked so different without weeks of grime covering their skin. More like a human being. Their hair was sticking up in tuffs and feathering lightly across their forehead. In the gray morning light, it almost looked white. Their black eyes were calm and the bags under their eyes weren’t so dark anymore. They looked bleached out, like something made of water color and rain. Hinami’s sleep clothes draped over their scrawny shoulders and the stark white stood out against their tan skin.

“Can I come with you?” Touka counted the freckles splashed across their cheeks and felt a flare of protectiveness.

Touka shook her head. “Trust me, you don’t want to be there.”

Kohaku stared at her evenly. “Are you going hunting?”

Touka let the sound of that word soak in her mouth. “Yes,” she decided. “Hunting.”

“What for?”

Touka considered lying and promptly decided fuck that. “Doves.” Touka pulled on her shoes. It was a pain, but she would need to run back to her apartment for something a bit more nondescript and her mask.

“Can I come with you?” Kohaku still kept that same poker face. Touka was starting to miss terror, because without it, Kohaku had absolutely no boundaries.

“No,” Touka replied simply.

“Why not?” Kohaku questioned. They still didn’t look disappointed or angry. Just curious.

“Because it’s dangerous. You don’t know how to fight.” Touka paused at the door and shot the kid a warning look. “And don’t take that as a challenge.”

Kohaku raised their eyebrows. “And what am I supposed to do here?”

Touka bit the inside of her cheek. “Knock on the room next door and introduce yourself. Be nice.”

“I’m the nicest person I know,” Kohaku gravely informed her. Touka couldn’t tell if they were kidding.

“We have books. The manager will probably want to meet you, so try to make a good impression.”

“I can’t read,” Kohaku said easily.

Touka breathed deeply. She knew they were trying to keep her from going. Touka almost didn’t want to leave, but she knew what she had to do. “I’m not falling for it. I have to go.”

Kohaku tilted their head and their eyes narrowed into a bit of a glare, but they didn’t try to deny anything. Touka shut the door.

Touka jogged home and showered off the grime of last night.

She dressed in black and fixed her hair with a pins and a wig. She glanced at the newspaper, examined the candid photos that someone had taken of the investigators.  She would recognize them anywhere.

Touka pulled her mask out from the depths of her closet and tossed it on her bed. She threw on a pair of huge sun glasses and shrugged a cap on over her wig. She stuffed most of the hair up under the beanie for good measure. She smudged some bright lipstick on her lips and made sure it was a different shape than her actual mouth.

When she looked at the mirror, she didn’t see herself.

Touka slowly pressed her mask to her face. Blank and cold and ice. That’s what she needed to be. She shoved her mask into the inner pocket of her coat and left her silent apartment.

She didn’t see herself. Touka stepped lightly and climbed up to the roof of a building across from the CCG headquarters. She arrived just in time. Her heart thudded heavy in her ears as she spied a group walk out the front doors. She caught the white sight of the white medical eyepatch.

Her kagune stirred under her skin and Touka followed them, her promises burning in her chest and her blood thudding in her ears.

OOOO


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> haha do i ever get tired of torturing Kankei??? Nope!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jesus fucking christ this took so long! Im very sorry about that but school hit me like a ton of bricks and I got the nastiest writers block ever! Ugh!

 

“Yes,” Kaneki whispered. He coughed and said with more commitment, “Yes, I would like to go to lunch.”

Ippei had a shocked look on his face that broke into a huge grin. He turned to Yasumoto, who looked crestfallen. “Cough it up,” Ippei crowed.

Yasumoto scowled, but he pulled a sizable amount of yen from his wallet. “I can’t believe it.”

Kaneki bit his lip and felt his cheeks burn. Ippei was smiling giddily. “I knew you’d come around!”

Kaneki tried to return the grin. He glanced over to Amon; his eyes were steadfastly glued to his report, but his eyes weren’t moving. Kaneki willed himself to say, “Amon, if you’d like—“

Mado chimed in, “That sounds great!”

Amon whirled around to face his superior. Mado raised his eyebrows and made a shooing motion with his briefcase. “There’s no time like the present,” he warbled.

Ippei and Yasumoto shared a confused look but didn’t say anything. Kaneki tried to calm his rapid heartbeat. Amon huffed and shut his folder. He stood and Kaneki found himself a bit surprised. He always forgot how tall Amon stood.

The four of them left. Ippei lead most of the conversation and Kaneki was really thankful that they weren’t walking in sullen silence. They piled into the elevator and Amon jabbed the button for the first floor.

“Amon,” Ippei asked, “do you have any ideas?”

Amon blinked. “I’m sorry. I usually just get the cafeteria food.”

Kasumoto laughed. It sounded a bit off kilter, like forced friendliness. “That can’t be good for your soul.”

Ippei grinned. “Or your taste buds,” he teased.

Amon’s lips twitched, and Kaneki realized that he had never actually seen Amon smile. The door opened on the third floor, cutting off Amon’s reply.

Hide blinked at the crowded elevator. “Huh.” He tilted his head and his eyes flashed to Kaneki for a second before Hide grinned. “Hey guys. Are you trying to escape the cafeteria?” He squeezed in next to Kaneki.

“See,” Ippei bragged, “everyone agrees on cafeteria food.”

Hide had redone his roots, Kaneki noted. His face was all blank friendliness and closed eyes. He looked almost respectable, with his white shirt and dress shoes and carefully combed hair. Kaneki didn’t recognize him.

“I’m actually taking my break, too,” Hide admitted. He scratched the back of his neck and ducked his head. “It’s not so much the food, but the atmosphere is seriously lacking in food court.”

“Nagachika-san, you’re welcome to come with us,” Ippei said excitedly.

Kaneki froze. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Hide grinned. “Thanks, that sounds great. Where are we going?”

Yasumoto shrugged. “Unless anyone has a preference, we have a nice place that isn’t too crowded that’s a block or so away.”

The automatic doors opened. The muggy weather outside hit everyone like a punch to the face. Kaneki was a bit glad he had left his briefcase behind. It would have been a pain to lug it around. He tugged off his jacket.

Hide whistled. “That looks nasty.” The sky, which had been overcast and light grey, was slowly being shoved away by rolling storm clouds. They air sizzled with ozone. Thunder rolled through the streets. “I hope someone brought an umbrella.”

No one had. Kaneki considered it the least of his problems.

The group stepped up the pace. Ippei kept throwing worried looks at the sky. Kaneki kept throwing worried looks at Hide. His pulse was thudding in his ears.

He couldn’t say anything now. He had prepared his words, whispered them in his head over and over until he could stomach them, but they weren’t meant for Hide. Hide, who had practically begged for Kaneki not to cut him out of his life.

Kaneki was a terrible friend.

Hide was telling a story about some kid he knew, and his crush on a hopeless romantic. “And Maru was super ungrateful—like here he was with the girl’s number and everything, and he was angry because ‘I didn’t let him confess his true feelings.’” Hide sighed. “And then he tried to ban me from interact club. Like, he isn’t even an officer. He doesn’t have the authority. He had to make a petition and everything.”

“Why were you so insistent on getting them together?” Yasumoto asked.

“Oh, I’m just a hopeless romantic.” No one believed that for a second, so Hide carelessly revealed, “And he has an older brother who’s a police chief and I wanted access to some classified reports.”

Amon’s eyes widened. “You know that’s illegal, correct?” He sounded almost concerned.

“Oh, shoot,” Hide groaned. “I completely forgot.” He winked and laughed and the wind whipped at his hair. He brushed it out of his face.

“What were the files for?” Ippei asked. He was over the moon, and maybe a bit easily impressed.

Hide zipped his lips. “That would be telling,” he teased.

Kaneki rubbed at his temples. “Hide, you are going to get arrested.”

“Well,” Hide joked, “You’ve got a pretty sweet job, so I can count on you to pay bail, right?”

A fat rain drop struck the tip of Kaneki’s nose and he flinched. Hide laughed at him, and Kaneki huffed, “Not a chance.”

Amon narrowed his eyes. “Do the two of you know each other?”

Kaneki froze as he realized his mistake.

Hide didn’t. “Oh, yeah! Kaneki used to go to be in my Asian history class—I was kinda surprised to see him working at the CCG,” Hide confessed, “but, eh, it’s a small world and all. I didn’t even recognize him at first because of the eyepatch.”

Hide turned to him, and Kaneki felt a flash of gratitude. “What’s with the eyepatch, by the way?”

Kaneki replied steadily, his response coached thoroughly by Hirako, “I had an eye surgery and I’m waiting for it to heal.”

“Was it a cataract? Man, my cat had one of those and it was wicked. Her eyes looked like mist. I used to scare the next door neighbor’s kid and say it guarded the entrance to the underworld.”

Hide didn’t have a cat. He wasn’t allowed to have pets. Kaneki was a bit stunned by how easily he could lie. “No,” he murmured. He rubbed at an itch on his chin. “I had severe near-sightedness that I needed to get fixed.”

“That sounds rough,” Hide sympathized.

The two of them shared a look. They both knew the other was lying and they both knew that they knew. At least Hide had a reason that Kaneki could understand—he was trying to help Kaneki. Kaneki couldn’t tell Hide anything. Hide didn’t know why Kaneki lied. Kaneki almost didn’t know why he lied.

The sky flashed white and the following bellow of thunder shook the windows. Kaneki flinched. Hide didn’t. Kaneki was starting to wonder if Hide had every flinched away from anything.

Ippei announced, “We’re here!” He flipped up the privacy curtains of the open face restaurant. There wasn’t a table big enough for them, so they all lined up at the bar. Kaneki found himself squeezed between Hide and Amon.

Kaneki’s anxiety returned, full force. He had to explain. He had to hide. He hadn’t prepared enough. This was so, so stupid of him. He stared blankly at the menu. When asked for his order, he blurted out the first thing that he saw. It turned out to be a noodle bowl.

Hide was laughing and entertaining. The words rung hollowly in Kaneki’s ears. This was precisely the situation he was ordered to avoid. And Kaneki had walked right on into it.

His meal slid in front of him. Kaneki murmured a thank you on reflex. This was the most disorienting thing. It smelled fine. It smelled nice—it didn’t smell like food, but it smelled like memories of food. It was like the scent of perfume or laundry detergent; pleasant but not appetizing.

Other people dug in. Kaneki sipped at his water and excused himself to the restroom. He splashed his face with water and stared into the mirror. He should have ignored Mado. Hirako was right. Kaneki steadied his breathing and counted to ten. And then to fifty. To one hundred. The CCG lunch break wasn’t actually that long. He just had to stall for another fifteen minutes. He steeled himself as he walked back to his seat. Just another fifteen minutes.

Kaneki slowly broke his chopsticks and stirred around the mush. It looked more and more like worms and pus and everything disgusting. His stomach twisted in revulsion. He clumsily caught a few noodles between his chopsticks. His hands had already forgotten the motion.

He raised them to his mouth. Breathe in. Plug your nose. Don’t chew. Just swallow.

Kaneki got the damn things down his throat and immediately wanted to throw them up. Foul. Foul and horrible and _disgusting,_ just like him. He snatched his water off the counter and downed it in three huge gulps.

His hands were all shot through with fine tremors. He almost dropped his glass when he tried to set it back down. He looked up and people were staring at him. Four pairs of eyes, all confused and curious, like ravens perched in the trees—like omens of death. Kaneki stood up abruptly. “I should go,” he croaked.

Amon was glaring at him, and he stood as well. “Why?”

Hide laid a hand on Kaneki’s shoulder. His face was polite and his eyes were dull against his bright smile. “Ah, Amon-san, I can’t understand how that is your business.”

Amon tensed and actually leaned back away from the sugar-coated poison in Hide’s voice. He narrowed his eyes and shot back hotly, “Because I don’t believe in working with people who have files so redacted that there’s more censorship than information.”

Kaneki jerked away from Hide’s light grip, and stumbled outside. He dimly heard Hide calling after him, but it was dulled by the rain streaming down from the sky. His hair was drenched in seconds.

“Hey, wait up.” Kaneki looks back, and it’s Hide, his hair stained dark and his expression apologetic. Amon is a few feet behind him, and he looks pissed. Ippei and Kasumoto are trailing behind, looking forlorn, and Kaneki feels incredibly guilty that he ruined their lunch party. “Look,” Hide says, “Kaneki I know—“

Know what? He knows what? Kaneki can’t see Hide anymore. It all tilts back from his eyes, until he’s staring up at receding buildings and dark skies. His stomach hurts. Like, really hurts.

“Fuck!”

That’s Hide. Kaneki tilts his head and forces his sticky eyes to latch onto the splotch of brightness against the rolling clouds. There’s blood on his face and shirt, his intense brown eyes cutting through the static of red spray on pale skin. “Kaneki,” he yells.

Kaneki blinks and coughs slightly. The pavement is warm against his back. Hide is leaning over him. His eyes intent on his stomach, and his hands scooping and pressing and trying to do something that Kaneki can feel but not see or understand.

He can hear Amon yelling, and Kaneki drags his head over and focuses his eyes with a wave of intense effort. Amon is trading blows with a rabbit. He’s losing. Badly. He’s slammed into a wall. He rolls with it and comes up woozy. Ippei is sobbing over Kasumoto—he’s got blood on him too. There’s a lot of blood in general, really.

Oh. Amon got thrown into a wall. He can’t get up this time. The Rabbit turns towards them and steps forward. Hide is nudging at Kaneki’s mouth with his arm, and Kaneki lazily snaps his jaws together and starts gnawing. It’s just warm. And it smells so good. Incredibly good. And his stomach hurts from hunger, so really there’s no reason he shouldn’t.

Blood hits his tongue the same instant he realizes what he’s done. His eyes snap wide and he tries to wrench his head away, but Hide’s arm is shoved further against his mouth, like a gag, and Hide is screaming at him and Kaneki can’t stop his jaws from snapping shut and his traitorous throat from swallowing a sweet chunk of muscle and skin and warm flesh.

It’s like getting hit in the chest by a horse. It’s like sticking a fork in a fucking electric socket. Kaneki slams his head back against the concrete and flings himself away from Hide with live wire limbs and his brain fires through so many conclusions at once. Hide is crumpled on the floor, the harsh rain stripping blood splatter from his skin. His arm is weeping, overflowing past his fingers, melting into the rain. Amon is reaching towards them, horror and shock etched into his face. His eye is already swelling shut from a horrible bruise. “Run,” he croaks, and slumps forward.

Past the blood roaring through his head, Kaneki hears the ghoul standing stock still in front of him breathe, “What the fucking _hell?_ ” And that’s all the processing he needs. Hide is behind him. A monster is before him. His limbs fly into motion. He’s jerking forward, like a fucking insect twitching on its death bed, but his fist connects; the rabbit mask snaps back. The ghoul’s body follows in a series of back flips. The dark holes of the mask bore into him, and then the ghoul rushes forward.

Kaneki knocks aside the first jab at his nose, but the ghoul in front of him is just as fast as Hirako and twice as brutal. The Ghoul’s elbow slams into his jaw so hard that his teeth rattle. He drops like a puppet with his strings cut. Kaneki can only make out blank white against dark sky. There’s a foot on his throat, and he seizes, but he’s too weak to shift it. It’s crushing his trachea, collapsing the cartilage millimeter by millimeter.

“Why the fuck—“ she stomps harder and Kaneki hacks out a terrified cough, trying to breath past the sandpaper in his chest—“is a ghoul working for the doves?”

Kaneki scrabbles at his throat with shaking hands, but he can’t get the foot to budge. The ghoul scoffs, and then something slams into his temple. His head whips to the side—he hears his neck crack like a twig. The pain splinters through him just a second later.

 “Why are _you_ a ghoul?” the monster above him murmurs, sounding lost.

“Kaneki!” Hide screams.

Kaneki feels like he’s submerged and drowning. Words reach him distorted. His ears ring. His eyes are blurred.   

The monster above him glances over to Hide. She scoffs. “This is what you get for being nice,” she says, almost too quiet for Kaneki to make out. She doesn’t sound like she’s talking to him. She steps over Kaneki without a second thought and stalks towards Hide.

No.

No!

Kaneki’s hand snaps out and grabs the ghoul’s leg. She stomps down on his arm and keeps walking. Hide is breathing too quickly, but he won’t move. He won’t scramble back. He isn’t even looking at the ghoul, he’s staring straight at Kaneki.

He’s ignoring death. He’s ignoring the physical manifestation of death. Kaneki feels his eyes well up with tears, and his pulse sky rocket. He can’t lose Hide. He can’t. He won’t allow it. It’s racing through his mind. He won’t allow it. He won’t sit here and watch Hide die. Not Hide. Not his best friend, his only friend, his secret keeper.  His heart thunders in his ears.

He won’t allow that.

He won’t _forgive_ that.

He feels his kagune bloom through the small of his back.

“NO!” He lunges forward and his kagune shreds through the ghoul’s arm.

She whirls around and gasps in pain, before she launches herself back. “Oh,” she sneers, low and dangerous. “So you want to play that game?” She cocks her head to the side and crouches. Crystals tear through her coat, electric feathers fanning out behind her. “Come on, dove,” she says. “You want to be their guard dog? You just bit your master. I’ll bet nobody will want a bitch that bites the hand that feeds it.”

Kaneki flinches and the taste of Hide’s blood on his tongue is over powering.

The ghoul before him blurs into motion, and Kaneki can barely track the after images. He dodges the first burst of projectiles by luck, but this ghoul is determined to turn him into a human pincushion. Half-human pincushion.

His kagnue writhes around him and bats away the worst of them, but shards still stab at his legs, his arms, any section of unprotected skin. He tries his hardest to direct the wild limbs, but he can never hit the ghoul. She weaves through his attacks like a dancer and then gets close enough to land a kick like a sledgehammer.

He flies through the air and impacts a wall. The ghoul is half a second behind. Kaneki frantically tries to block with his kagune, but the ghoul launches into a flip and her wings solidify into something razor sharp and deadly. She slices through two of his limbs and decks him straight in the face.

His legs crumple beneath him, even as he flails his remaining limb. Rabbit dances just out of reach and then rains down a hail of feather blades. He can’t block all of them. He can’t even block most of them. They puncture into his skin and the pain brings tears to his eyes. He can’t win. He can’t beat this monster.

“Run!” he yells to Hide. Hide, who hasn’t moved, but has a phone to his ear and a blank expression on his face. Hide who is looking past Kaneki and the ghoul he’s fighting.

Rabbit takes advantage of his distraction and neatly jumps through his offence and stomps her heel through his shin.

Mado takes advantage of her distraction and rips through a decent chunk of her rib cage.

The ghoul screams in pain and whirls on her new enemy. Mado stalks forward, a smirk curling at his lips and spine-like quinque hovering around him as he neatly snaps his phone shut. “My, my,” he says smoothly, “I leave my subordinates alone for five minutes and some trash tries to kill them. I suppose ghouls have no sense of manners,” He teases, his sharp eyes scouring over the ghoul’s wavering kagune, her organs spilling past the bloody hole in her side, the way her chest heaves, the way she shudders in pain.

He laughs. “But don’t worry,” he reassures, as he advances forward on rabbit, who is stumbling backwards, spilling blood all over the dark pavement. “I have every belief that I can beat them into you.”

The ghoul shrieks, full of rage and wrath, and she shoots a wave of crystal feathers at Mado. He bats them all aside effortlessly, his spine quinque darting through the air entirely at his whim. “You’re one of those speed demon types. Terribly fast and a pain in the ass, good for all ranges. But,” he tsks, “you’ve got no stamina. Your type are easy pickings once they tire.”

The ghoul’s kagune wavers like a candle in a thunderstorm and then finally winks out of existence. Her chest heaves, and she clamps her hand over the hole in her side. She retreats just as fast as Mado approaches, having already figured out the extent of his quinque.

Mado’s eye twitches when she refuses to come within range, but his smile only grows. “In fact, you remind me of this ghoul I slaughtered just recently—helpless and weak, but with all the right material! I can’t wait to add such a wonderful Ukaku to my collection!”

The ghoul screams, wordless wrath and pain. She launches herself backwards and scrambles up and over a building. She’s gone. Gone.

Mado pouts. “What a shame.”

Kaneki is looking at his bones. His leg is splintered completely outside of his body. His remaining kagune arm withers and rots off, and he’s glad it’s gone. His stomach rolls with pain and nausea. Just another day. He really needs to quit this cycle.

“Kaneki-san,” someone whispers.

Kaneki tears his eyes away from his _bones outside his body_ and looks at Ippei, crouching next to him, terrified and gasping for air. “Kaneki-san,” he whispers, so lost, “y-your leg.” His face screws up, and he starts crying.

No one should cry for him. “Hey,” Kaneki croaks, cracking a smile. “I’m fine, I swear.”

Ippei stares at him, with shock plainly written over his face.

Hide crouches on Kaneki’s other side, and he smiles. “Nice work, buddy.” He looks dead. Pale. The sleeve of his shirt is drenched in blood, and Kaneki can smell that most of it is his.

Ippei gasps. He’s jerking like a possessed thing, like his limbs don’t quite know what to do. “We—we need to stop the bleeding,” he cries. “We need medical attention.”

“Yes,” Mado says. He has Amon practically slung over his shoulder. “Nagachika, if you would be so kind?”

Hide is patting Kaneki’s shoulder. “Already done.” His hands keep moving, knocking out little remains of the other ghoul’s kagune. Kaneki winces.

“Well, that probably wasn’t the best way for someone to come out,” Mado mused, and he tossed a metal canister into Kaneki’s lap. “I give you full points for drama, though.”

Kaneki swallows back his disgust and twists open the thermos. He downs it in three gulps and shudders as the taste hits the back of his throat. He doesn’t complain. He would have done anything to get the sweet flavor of blood off of his tongue.  

“Would anyone care to explain why Nagachika has a bite mark? I would like to say the ghoul, but the mask would have made that impossible.” Mado tilts his head, and his stare pins Kaneki in place like a fucking bug.

Hide shrugs. “I made him.” Simple statement. It makes no sense, but Hide doesn’t offer any clarification.

“Hmm. Are you willing to claim responsibility for that?”

“Fully.”

Mado rolls his eyes. “Why did I get stuck with only one well-adjusted human being? Amon here is one healed concussion away from having a fit.” Ippei starts sobbing a bit louder, and Kasumoto is blank-eyed and looking increasingly sick

Amon makes some senseless mumble, and by then the ambulance had peeled around the corner.

“Well, everyone say ‘thank you’ to third rank Kaneki," Mado says playfully. "The CCG’s first half ghoul investigator.”

Kasumoto throws up his undigested lunch all over the pavement.

OOO

Kohaku was watching the rain from behind the safety of the window. They loved thunderstorms like some children loved fireworks. The noise and light and overwhelming sense of insignificance had always been comforting.

_“If I got struck by lightning, would I die?”_

_“No, you’d come back and be able to fly.”_

Kohaku had giggled when her sister had said that. They made a habit of asking whenever they saw storm clouds. Their sister never answered the exact same way twice.

But she always said that they would come back.

Sister wasn’t going to come back. Sister was gone, like the mother and father Kohaku barely remembered.

 _I’m alone_ , they thought for the thousandth time. The sky flashed so bright that it left afterimages on her eye lids. Thunder screamed, and the entire earth shuddered. Kohaku laughed, except they were also crying, and why why why were they so sad?

There was a knock on the door. Kohaku swallowed hard and rubbed at their eyes. That would be whoever worked at this place. Kohaku wanted Touka. She made them feel like they weren’t about to fall apart at the seams. Like she wasn’t some glass window spider-webbed through with cracks, only the slightest push away from utterly shattering.

Kohaku stumbled to the door, and wrenched it open. It was a girl their age. “Hi,” Kohaku croaked.

“Hi,” she murmured in reply. She reminded Kohaku of pretty paints and of little flowers. The sky fell through and screamed again and she flinched. Flowers weren’t made to survive floods. Little flowers downed and got torn up by the roots by forces far greater than themselves. Flowers got crushed underfoot as people ran.

“Are you scared?” She whispered. Her big eyes flicked to the windows. She bit her lip, and Kohaku noticed just how deep the bags under her eyes were.

“Yes,” they lied. “Are you?”

She nodded. Kohaku’s mind whirled for something to say. They couldn’t handle being alone. “We can hide in the bathroom,” they offered.

The girl nodded again. Kohaku wavered for a moment. Then they turned and tugged the blankets off the bed and the pillows off the couch. They flicked on the bathroom lights and threw everything onto the floor. “Come on in,” they invited.

The girl steeled herself and walked through the door. They both sat silent. “Can you read?” Kohaku asked, pointing to the book the girl carried loosely between her fingertips.

She nodded slowly. “Just a little.”

Kohaku couldn’t. Sister had never learned and Kohaku had never wanted to. It had never seemed possible. “Can I listen?”

The lights flickered as another roar of thunder rolled through the buildings. The girl flinched again, but she nodded. She opened the book, and the spine gave easily. She picked through the pages until she found the one she wanted. She hunched over it and squinted at the kanji, mouthing the words for a few seconds before she began reciting.

Her voice shook and cracked over unfamiliar words. Kohaku still listened, because that was easier than trying to talk. It was easier until the girl’s big, wide, sad eyes started dripping, and then she was sobbing quietly into the pages of her book.

Kohaku’s stomach twisted and they fought the urge to start crying again. “Hey,” they said, “it’s—“

Except it wasn’t okay. Nothing was okay with this situation in any sense of the word. Kohaku sobbed and hugged their knees. They weren’t quiet. Not like the girl next to them. They were all strained vocal cords and heaving lungs and a pain so intense that it felt like death.

“I miss my sister,” they breathed in between wracking sobs.

“I miss my mother,” she whispered back. She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with long sleeves.

There wasn’t much to say after that. But somehow, saying those words, having them heard, made it a bit easier to breathe. Kohaku swallowed past the lump in their throat. “I want her back,” they said, and it sounded like another confession.

“I was angry at her,” the girl murmured, “and she tried to make me happy and it killed her.”

Kohaku shook their head and sniffled. “It isn’t your fault.”

“It feels like it is.”

Kohaku rubbed her eyes clear. “But it isn’t,” they stated.

The girl didn’t say anything. Kohaku sighed and slumped against the wall. They listened to the rain beating down on the roof. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” they revealed. No idea. They had never hunted. They didn’t want to kill. They didn’t want to stay in this shop where the whole world continued on without evidence of their tragedy.

The girl shook her head. “Me either.”

Kohaku glanced at this soft, sad child, with her pretty dress and dull eyes. Kohaku knew homelessness. They didn’t think that this girl ever had. “Do you know Touka?”

“Yes. Big Sis, uh, said that I should say hello.” She shrugged. “And I just made you sad. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t make me sad.” Kohaku was already sad and angry and hurt. This delicate girl wasn’t going to be able to hurt them any further. “This world is the one to blame.”

The girl looked at her and she looked so wrong; she wasn’t meant to be hiding out from a storm with a monster instead of a mother. Kohaku suddenly wanted to rip the clouds out of the sky and make way for something gentler in this world.

“This world is to blame?” the girl murmured uncertainly. She didn’t really believe it. Kohaku didn’t argue the point.

They didn’t believe it before either.

The girl beside her stiffens a second before Kohaku hears the door to their room break open and the stench of blood floods the room. The door to the bathroom wrenches open and Kohaku is on their feet, ready to attack, when the quiet girl pushes past them and launches herself into the arms of their terrifying—

“Touka-neesan,” she blubbers, “what happened to you?”

Touka tears away her mask and wig and Kohaku is frozen by the intense pain on her face. “First aid,” she grits out, staring at Kohaku, “under the sink.”

She collapses against the door frame. Kohaku scrambles to the sink and snatches the first aid kit. They tear it open and everything spills out onto the cold tile.

“Hinami,” Touka hisses, “I need food. Please.”

Hinami is already flying down the hall, her breath frantic.

Kohaku gulps. “Coat off. We need the coat off.” They reach out.

Touka twists away and snarls, but Kohaku dosen’t even flinch. The whole bathroom stinks of blood, and they tug at the buttons and zipper of Touka’s coat. A lot of gritted teeth and hissed curses later, Kohaku tosses the blood soaked mess into the bath tub.

It’s bad. It’s really, really, bad. Kohaku spies the yellow gleam of bone. The bandages aren’t going to cut it. They grab a thin towel and gently press at the wound. Touka groans, low and in pain, her ragged breaths cut in with sharp exclamations of “Fuck! Shit! Fuckin— _Fuck_!”

Hinami stumbles back into the room, her hands full of packages, and she drops to her knees. Touka’s arm is holding on by a thread, almost completely detached from her body—she rips the brown paper open with her teeth and tears into the cold bloodless flesh.

Once done, she moans again, and shudders. Kohaku’s heart is lodged in their throat. They unravel the bandages. “Arm,” they demand, not willing to let their voice tremble.

Touka hisses, but obliges. The two of them manage to bind it—Kohaku knows shock is the worst enemy here. Touka’s breathing turns shuddering and shallow, but the gaping hole in her side starts to close just a little bit. Kohaku opens another thing of meat. Touka turns her head away with a wordless groan, but Kohaku refuses to leave it be.

Slowly and painfully, Touka drifts into a troubled sleep.

Kohaku bites her lips and looks at Hinami, who is crying quietly and unobtrusively.

What a mess.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again super sorry about this like god damn yall are rightfully pissed for having to wait this long  
> sorry about the weird verb tense switches I just want the best of both worlds and cant choose  
> tbh if i do this again just bug me on my tumblr bc I need to be more active on there kk bye<3


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh!! ! !  
> I thought i posted this three days ago and it didn't go through! Sorry!

Touka wakes up with a head full of problems. There’s a ghoul working for the doves. A ghoul that was certainly human a few weeks ago. A ghoul with a friend with acting skills that would be fit right in on the fucking big screen. Oh, that one had fooled her plain and simple. She wondered if he knew. She had been ready to tear out his throat to keep her secret.

Oh well. No use crying over spilt blood. She hadn’t managed to silence him. And now all she can do is wait for white suits to show up at her school or home. She should have tried harder; she should have just stomped through that dove’s throat. But she had questions burning in her throat and fear eating through her stomach. She just needed to beat him unconscious, and she had been so close. If it weren’t for the fucking wild eyed geezer, her plan would have worked perfectly.

If only she had just killed them. Hadn’t gotten so close and then _stopped._ She had wanted to so badly.

If only, if only. All she has now was a hole in her side, a blood stained outfit that she could never wear again, and two children curled up on her legs. Hinami and Kohaku both have her blood caked on their skin and matted in their hair. The sight makes Touka sick.

Hinami looks ill, dark circles on pale skin. Her hands are trembling, even in sleep. Kohaku has permanent lines of stress on their forehead, a frown pulling down at the corners of their mouth. She hates that she made them worry.

At least Kohaku had taped a towel over her side. Touka doesn’t remember them doing it. It’s going to be a bitch to remove, but Touka is glad enough that she hasn’t bled out that she will just grin and bear it.

The cold tile has leeched all the heat from her body, but Hinami had the sense to drape a blanket over her. Another item she needs to soak in bleach. Touka hesitantly shifts and hisses in pain when her side throbs. Hinami mumbles in her sleep and curls in on herself, clutching at Touka’s leg. A wisp of fondness curls up in Touka’s chest, and she reaches out to reassure her. The sight of her bloody hands stops her. She curls her fingers into fists and shudders, before placing them back on her lap.

She can’t hear anyone in the shop below—just the light ping of rain off the windows. It could be anywhere from midnight to six in the morning. Touka breathes in deeply, past the pain in her side and the guilt in her chest, and she slowly detaches herself from the two sleeping children. Kohaku whines in their sleep, but Touka manages to get her feet under her without screaming and waking the two. She stumbles out of the bathroom and grimaces at the mess she had left. The gore is visible even in the dim light, the flimsy curtains filtering the halogen street lamps. It’s still raining, light flecks of rain gently drumming on the roof.

She leans heavily against the wall next to the mirror and pulls away her shredded shirt to examine the make-shift bandage on her side. The orange light casts strange colors across her skin, the shadows deep and devouring. The swell of her ribs is like a mountain range, too prominent. She’s gaunt bones over unscarred skin. She’s stitched together contrasts, indigo sky without stars, burning gold like the strange iridescence of cheap pen ink, dark yet reflective. The once-white towel stretched over her side is pure black and stinks of rust.

In the mirror she looks monstrous, and her eyes aren’t even ink and embers.

She isn’t even a murderer; she failed. Every single one of the doves live. And now they will all be on high alert; she didn’t have a chance of catching them without their weapons, not after this stunt.

She could have—she had! She had sliced open ghoul-dove’s stomach like a fucking cube of jello. But then, the horror caught up with her. The screams. The shock. The guy with dyed hair dropped to his knees. She had spied him frantically trying to press all of the spilled organs back _in_ , little glimpses stolen during her fight with the tall investigator. She had thought it hopeless. The look in their eyes made her sick. Both of them were dead—both filled with pain. One just looked a bit closer.

She had the taller investigator down, at her complete mercy, and somehow she couldn’t do it. Not when he only had eyes for his fucking comrades in murder, screaming, “Run,” like the mother Touka sometimes remembered. She turned away, wanting the blonde boy to stop. It was hopeless. The blood looked black on his pale skin. He was still speaking, speaking to a corpse, trying to detect breath, trying hard and failing.

And then twice dead boy twitched to life like a fucking zombie, one eye red and the other black, both wide and blank.

She hadn’t expected that.

Touka tears herself away from reliving it. Her skin is creeping, the base of her neck tingling. She tugs another blanket off of the twin bed and trudges to the bathroom, and lays it over the sleeping children. She then begins the laborious and painful process of shedding her ruined clothing. She can’t get the shirt over her head, not with her arm holding on by a thread and her liver still trying to peak out of her body. She eventually just rips it open down the middle and shrugs it off like a jacket.

She grimaces at her sports bra and decides to not even bother. She sets out the bloody shirt on the balcony, trusting the rain to wash the worst of it off. She hesitates at the door, but then she steps out on the balcony and slides the door shut behind her. The air is freezing. The rain cuts cold strips down her skin, taking away lines of blood with it. She shivers, the water sliding over her flesh like the lightest kiss of razors skimming skin.

The street is quiet and dark, but she can hear the faint sound of cars speeding by on the adjacent roads. Tokyo never really sleeps. She reaches up her uninjured arm and wipes away the worst of the blood from her torso. It collects on her finger tips and spreads over her skin, still present but gradually vanishing.

She’s fucking freezing if she’s being honest with herself. Instead of doing something sensible, she reaches into the pocket of her joggers and pulls out her phone. Her keychain winks up at her, sugary sweet and saccharin. Yoriko had given it to her as a gift. Touka resists the urge to tear it off and fling it into the empty street.

She flips open her old ratty phone and traces the number pad, her numb fingertips reading the indents as pain. She punches in a number, bit by painful bit. Then she erases it and almost flings her entire phone into the street, but her hand is a traitor and it refuses to release the device.

Touka shudders from the cold and types in the damn number and hits call before she can chicken out again.

Lo and behold, she is the unluckiest fucker in Tokyo and her call is answered on the third ring. Out from her shitty speakers, a voice she knows too well says, “Who is this and why are you calling me?”

Touka isn’t surprised. She had deleted his contact from her phone, too. She just couldn’t burn it out of her brain. Looks like Ayato hadn’t had the same problem.

“It’s me. I want your help.”

There’s a startled bark of laughter on Ayato’s end. “Oh, and you just expect me to drop everything and do that?”

“I do,” Touka states with confidence she doesn’t feel. “Because I have something that you will find fun.”

Another laugh; short, bitter, acidic. “That’s rich; you wouldn’t know fun if it crawled up your ass and died. Your idea of a good time is kissing ass to kee—“

Touka cuts him off, snarling, “I want you to help me kill a couple doves. If that’s too scary for you, I’ll find someone else.”

Ayato is silent for a few seconds. When he speaks, it’s slow, more measured. Taunting. “And what inspired this sudden fun?”

“Does it matter?” Touka shoots back.  It really does, but Ayato wouldn’t give a shit about her need to do this even if she told him. He had his own reasons for doing things. He wouldn’t understand.

Ayato snorts. “I’d be more eager to appease me,” he says, enjoying the opportunity to lord the fact that she needs help over her head. “I still haven’t said yes."

Touka bites her cheek and her stomach twists. This is their first conversation in over a year and they are already at each other’s throats. “Fuck it,” she snaps. “I don’t even know why I called.” She tears the phone away, ready to snap it in half.

“Wait!”

Touka clenches her fist and grinds her jaw, but she puts the phone back to her ear.

“How many?”

“Three.” She takes in a deep breath. She was only counting those that would pose a threat. She could slit an office worker’s throat any day of the week. “One of them is a ghoul.”

“I’m not your guard dog,” he sneers. “Anteiku can deal with their own damn—“

“The ghoul,” Touka bites out, her rage curling hot and sharp at the back of her throat, “is a dove.”

Ayato breathes out one word; “What?”

The danger in his voice makes her outright fucking smirk. She has his attention. It’s her turn to hold something over his head, just out of reach. “This ghoul is working for the CCG—he’s a fucking dove. This isn’t an errand for Anteiku. They told me to stay out of it.” She laughs, and her skin is suddenly hot, her kakuhou stirring under skin. “I’m not staying out of it.”

“When?”

Touka thinks it over. She needs to heal. She needs to set a trap. That will take a few days. She has school tomorrow. “Four days. I’ve got shit I need to set up.”

“You got your ass whooped, didn’t you?” Ayato says.

Touka starts to deny it, but Ayato talks over her. “You already tried and failed. That’s why you need my help. You’ve got no one except me.”

Why did her stupid little brother choose the worst times to wise up?

“Little brother,” Touka hisses as the pain in her side flares up, “I got my ass thoroughly fucking whooped. So you better bring your A-game.” She wasn’t going to accept anything less. Ayato could handle violence in a way that she never had the stomach for, but he was reckless and flighty.

Ayato is full of so many unfamiliar pauses—much less raw anger. Now he was all spoiled, rotten and toxic and carrying nasty poison in his silences. Touka knew the feeling well. “Four days? I guess I can clear my schedule as a personal favor. Anything for my shitty sister who’s in way over her head.”

“I’m still taller than you, brat.”

Ayato scoffs. “We’ll see.”

The phone goes dead in her hand and a tension that Touka didn’t even know she had fled her shoulders.

OOO

Hide refused to leave the hospital room. Kaneki didn’t even understand why he was stuck in this bed. He didn’t have an IV. The cast around his leg would be redundant in a few days, the doctors all told him. They were all very interested in his other injuries, the ones Kaneki barely remembered, the ones that were suspiciously absent from his form.

“And you are positive that the strike broke the abdominal wall?” The medical personnel asked Hide for the third time.

Hide lounges in his hospital chair. “Yep.” His voice is short and clipped. He pops the “P” like chewing gum. He’s gazing at the clock on the opposite wall, smoothly tracking the second hand.

The nurse perceives his lack of focus as shock. He doesn’t disillusion him from it. It might even be true. Organs were a bit disconcerting to even the most well-adjusted humans.

“How could you tell?”

Hide blinks slowly, and then focuses his gaze on the nurse. “I suspected something was wrong when I saw his intestines strung out on the ground besides his body.”

The nurse tilts his head. Hide gave him props for the poker face. Aside from the way his lips twisted momentarily in disgust, he is a complete professional. He jots down a few more notes on his clip board and then leaves to gossip with everyone else.

Hide pins Kaneki with a tired, expectant stare. “Are you going to be reasonable?”

“Hide,” Kaneki says, “I bit you. I’m being perfectly reasonable.”

Hide raises his eyebrows. “I think you are overestimating how much control you had in that situation.”

“That’s precisely the point! You never should have even be near me.” Kaneki’s lips twist and his face screws up, but he keeps the stinging in his eyes from developing into full blown tears. “No one should,” he admits. “I shouldn’t be around people.”

Hide heaves an impatient sigh and shifts in his seat, propping his chin up with his hands, his elbows digging into his thighs, his spine curved into something that would make a chiropractor cry. “Let’s assume that your feelings are true and should be acted on,” he generously proposes. “What would you do?”

Kaneki’s hands curl into fists. “There’s a ghoul containment facility tha—“

“I’m going to stop you right there,” Hide interrupts. “Self-flagellation is not a valid course of action.”

“I’m not self-flagell—“

“Yes, Kaneki,” Hide cuts in, his tone brooking no argument, “you are.” He clicks his tongue and starts ticking off fingers. “If you simply wanted to avoid being placed in situations where your control might be tested, you could request a non-combative role. You could request more nutrition, because you’ve lost far too much weight for your current prescription to be satisfying your needs.”

Kaneki opens his mouth to protest, but Hide glares at him. He's dry anger, like fire wood eager to ignite if only someone would throw it a match. Kaneki’s teeth clack shut.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice,” Hide warns. “As it is, the doctors were long over do for a full blood write up. I’m positive that they think you need more RC cells then what you are currently being supplied. Your hunger has a biological basis and it simply needs to be managed. There. That’s two perfectly acceptable alternatives to tormenting yourself over something that is beyond your control.”

Kaneki didn’t quite know how to verbalize why those things wouldn’t work. Even if he took those precautions, there was a chance he would still slip up. And what if he didn’t snap out of it? What if he just kept eating? What if he just devoured someone whole because he felt so empty?

“I’m sorry,” he says instead. He can’t convince Hide; he’s always been stubborn. There’s no point in arguing—Kaneki didn’t want to argue right now. He just wanted to forget everything. Yes, Hide accepted him. Hide’s response to finding out such a terrible secret had be a cheery, “Wow, would you look at that! I’m out of fucks to give.”

Kaneki had laughed, and, even if it bordered on hysteria, it had been nice. But it wasn’t sustainable, because Kaneki couldn’t look at his face without his eyes darting to the heavy bandages wrapped around his forearm. Kaneki couldn’t look at his best friend without thinking about how he tasted.

“Sorry about what?”

Kaneki blinks dumbly at Hide, who sitting stiff and straight in his chair. His jaw moves, but no sound comes because Kaneki doesn’t know the answer.

“Are you sorry that you refuse to listen?” Hide prompts, “Or are you sorry that you aren’t willing to talk to me and are instead just choosing to passively ignore me so you can keep your terrible view of yourself? Because I am not accepting an apology for either of those things. Try harder.”

Kaneki feels a stirring of annoyance. “Neither.”

“Wow,” Hide drawls. “Verbose as always. If only everyone communicated with your grace and clarity.”

Kaneki tensed. “It isn’t as simple as you’re trying to portray it as,” he murmured, trying to quell the sudden defensiveness in his voice.

“Then enlighten me as to the complexities.” Hide is back to slouching in his chair, absent-mindedly picking at his nails.

Kaneki feels cold. “You’re baiting me.” Hide glances at him, and Kaneki knows that it is true. “Why?”

“Because I tried being reasonable and it doesn’t work. So we are going to have a big dramatic yelling match and I’m not taking prisoners. So,” he says, “I’ll go first.”

Kaneki is still trying to process who this person is.

“I’m kinda pissed at you,” Hide states bluntly. “I spent weeks looking for you and you were just fucking gone. You refused to call and let me know you were okay. You refused to communicate at all, and you just up and fucking went missing. I thought you were dead.”

“I didn’t have my phone.”

“Bull,” Hide snaps. “You’ve got my number memorized. Or is that your way of saying that it was easy to forget me?”

Kaneki recoils. “You know that isn’t true!”

Hide shrugs, that same burning stare fixes itself on Kaneki’s face. “Do I? I mean, you never tell anyone how you really feel. How the hell am I supposed to know what you think?”

“It’s never been a problem before.”

Hide shakes his head. “That’s because you’ve never let it be a problem—you bend over backwards to avoid alienating anyone. You never tell people anything, and then you just respond to what they do.”

“I do not!”

“Then tell me why you didn’t call.” Hide stands up and Kaneki resists the insane urge to stand on his bed just so he can be taller. “Tell me. Really and truly; I want to know.”

“Because I’m dangerous!” Kaneki shouts. “How do you not get it?!”

Hide snorts and glances at Kaneki’s casted leg. “You look like a six year old who fell out of tree. I’m not buying it.”

Hide turns away with an annoyed expression and Kaneki feels outrage and frustration and everything burning in him decide to explode. “Come back here! I spent weeks terrified that I will hurt people and today has only shown me that I was right to be afraid. I bit you. I tore a chunk of flesh out of your arm.”

Hide is just standing there, his back turned. It makes Kaneki even angrier. “I _ate_ you, Hide!” And his stomach rebels at the very thought. “Exactly like I was terrified of doing for weeks. I hurt the one person I wanted to protect the most,” Kaneki rambles, his head full of the rush of his blood, his heart fluttering like a terrified bird. “And I have no idea if I can stop myself from doing it again.” He screws his eyes shut and tries to get a hold of his shaking arms.

Suddenly, there are warm arms around him. “Hey,” Hide soothes. Kaneki shies away, tries to break out of Hide’s hug, his chest heaving with sobs. “Just let me explain my side. I can do that, right?” He releases Kaneki, but stays close. Kaneki keeps his hands to himself even though he really just wants to be held.

“I saw you sprawled out on the ground,” Hide breathes, and he kneels by Kaneki’s beside. “There was so much blood. And I knew. Or at least I suspected. And I couldn’t bear watching you bleed out in the street. So I thought, ‘hey, I can do this.’” Hide shakes his head. “I knew you weren’t fully conscious and I took advantage of that. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want to. I know that you aren’t dangerous, Kaneki, because you would rather burn yourself alive than allow other people to be hurt.”

Kaneki shudders and shakes his head in denial. “You had no right,” he stresses, “no right to do that.”

“And yet I did it anyway. I would do it again if I could keep you alive.” Hide grabs his hand and doesn’t let go and Kaneki doesn’t try to take it back. Hide’s deep brown eyes are tired and dull and sad, and he’s on his knees begging for absolution. “I’m sorry that I made you do that—but you can’t punish yourself. Please don’t. If not for your sake, then at least for mine.”

Kaneki squeezes his hands tightly, but Hide doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. Kaneki grits his teeth and yanks Hide’s arm and unceremoniously drags him into his arms. Hide catches on in a few seconds and he sinks into the hug.

“I’m sorry.”

Kaneki couldn’t say anything for another few seconds. He croaks out, “I know.”

From beyond the privacy curtain that hangs in their room, Amon Koutarou gains a new sense of perspective.

OOO

Ippei is giving him strange looks again. Kaneki shifts his stance and pretends not to notice. He keeps an eye out for danger, just as Mado had instructed. The stench of sewer is going to pervade his clothes for weeks.

Mado didn’t seem to notice. His eyes scour the ground and walls, his gloved hands firmly wrapped around two briefcases. He calls out, “And the tips said they first noticed the child when?”

Ippei quits staring long enough to check the clipboard his reports are on. “Six days ago. They didn’t report it immediately because they assumed the child was simply lost. It was only yesterday that they realized the description matched one of our posters.”

Mado hums, his eyes burning with that strange intensity as his mind whirled through possibilities. “We need to go further in,” he finally decides. He spares a glance at Kaneki. “We’re probably walking into a trap.” His words are cheerful despite the message they convey. He smirks and turns further into the entrance of the manmade tunnel.

Some graffiti artists had loved this place once upon a time. The walls are a battleground, colors and giant letters and symbols fighting for dominance on the walls. The further they go into the tunnel, the sparser the decorations get, until the walls are plain and untouched under the glare of their flashlights, the mold and grime notwithstanding. The concrete walk-way eventually ends, and then the air becomes full of the sound of wet shoes crunching on gravel.

Mado walks another six hundred feet before the anticipatory skip in his step starts to diminish. He marches another three hundred feel before he stops and sighs dejectedly. He turns on his heel and grimaces, his lips twisted into something resembling a pout. “This was a waste of time.”

Kaneki feels the tension between his shoulder blades melt. He tries not to smile, because Mado looks downright mournful. The three of them retreat back to the office, taking shelter from the cold front that had blown in with a vengeance a few days ago.

“I was really expecting Rabbit,” Mado complains as the elevator rises to the ninth floor, “but it looks like they’re still off licking their wounds.”

Kaneki frowns. “Rabbit is connected to Daughter?” He hadn’t considered it, but it didn’t seem farfetched.

Mado nods. “It’s obvious. The timing is too good. Rabbit is exacting revenge on behalf of Daughter. They might have given up, but I highly doubt it. It’s far more likely that they are simply bidding their time.”

Kaneki opens the door to their meeting room. His heart skips a beat. Amon is already there, his eyes still slightly unfocused. He glances up when the three of them enter the room, his gaze boring into Kaneki.

Mado perks up. “Ah, Amon. You’ve been released from medical?”

Amon averts his gaze and reaches forward to shuffle the papers spread out in front of him. Kaneki is surprised to see him blush. “Something like that,” he mutters.

Mado raises his eyebrows, but he doesn’t say anything. He peers over Amon’s shoulder, his eyes scanning the case files haphazardly scattered over the table. “Oh, you think we might have a record of Rabbit’s previous activities.”

Amon’s brows furrow and he takes a few seconds to respond. “Yes. A ghoul with that strength doesn’t usually stay quiet.” Kaneki wonders why he’s at work. He’s either still concussed or exhausted. It could be both.

Kaneki feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He steps outside and ignores the look that Amon pins him with before he closes the door. The concussion had only made his gaze more intense. It unsettles him to be the center of that much focus.

It’s a text.

_Operation complete. Will be back in three to four days._

Kaneki sighs in relief and leans back against the wall. Hirako is fine. The thought has been itching at the back of his head for days. He’s glad. He couldn’t handle being with Mado too much longer. The good natured teasing and blood thirstiness were too jarring to handle simultaneously.

Kaneki bites his lip.

_I’m glad you’re ok_

Kaneki stares at his phone screen and deletes the message. He walks back into the room and finds Mado hunched over the table like a bird of prey, his eyes darting back and forth.

Without looking up, Mado waves Kaneki off. “We’re done for the day.” He looks to Amon and grins, full of teeth and electricity. “I have a wonderful idea. I need to run to a pet store and stop by the morgue.”

Kaneki decides today is a good day to get off early. He hurries to collect his stuff and leave behind Amon’s intense looks and Ippei’s obvious discomfort and Mado’s eccentric behavior. Maybe, possibly, he could call Hide? He scrounges through his memory to recall what day it is and whether Hide would be in class or not. He reaches out and presses the elevator button.

“Kaneki-san!”

Kaneki almost jumps out of his skin. He whirls around. Ippei is—he’s sprinting down the hall way. Kaneki leans back a bit, and jams his thumb into the elevator button again. No. He has had enough talks for a week. It can wait.

The elevator decides to take its sweet time.

Ippei pants and straightens up, his face flushed either from embarrassment or exertion. “I want to thank you,” he states, his shoulders hunched. “I don’t care about the—“ he waves his hands in a way that under different circumstances Kaneki would be hard pressed not to blush. (he blames Hide)— “and I think anyone who does it stupid!” Ippei gives such a decisive nod that he almost flings his glasses off of his face.

Kaneki hears the elevator door slide open behind him, but the urge to jump in and flee has already passed. He swallows past the lump at the back of his throat and smiles. “Thank you,” Kaneki murmurs, and everything is suddenly easier. “Thank you.”

OOOOOO

Christ, Ayato had gotten tall. Or maybe Touka was just really fucking short. It could really go both ways. He’s grimy and lanky and a bit too thin, his hair full of cowlicks and fly-away strands. His head looks like a chicken who lost a fight with a lawn mower, if she’s being honest. His eyes are still big, despite the sour expression on his face.

Ayato looks at her, his eyes lingering on the way she was favoring her right arm, on the bags under her eyes. “You look like shit.”

She can’t fucking argue with that one. At least her bones had finally pieced themselves together, so she won’t lose her limbs by accident. But, still, she can’t take that shit, not from someone taller than her. She glances over Ayato and tilts her head. “You smell like shit,” she says, pointedly glancing at the grime on his finger nails, the dirt on his clothes, and the grease in his hair.

Ahh, and there’s the bitch face she desperately missed.

“I cannot fucking believe I’m doing this,” Ayato says. He eyes the dumpster near him and she can tell that he’s contemplating tearing it apart just for the hell of it. She isn’t in the mood to stop him, so she leaves that possibility to the powers that be.

“Believe it,” she deadpans. “We’ve got precisely one chance to not fuck this up.”

Her phone buzzes in her pocket. Touka glances at the ID and kills the call before it even starts. She isn’t in the mood to talk to Irimi.

“I’ve got the doves believing in some bullshit story about a sewer by an elementary school. Lots of columns, high ceilings, water that will slow down their movements.”

“So you expect three at most? That seems lax for doves.”

Touka shrugs. “They aren’t expecting us.” Her phone rings again, and her mouth twists into something unpleasant as she ends it again. “I just have to call and give one final report, and the doves will come running.”

Ayato rolls his eyes. “There are so many ways that this plan could go south.”

“It’s what I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Ayato scoffs and rolls his eyes. “I’m already here. I’m not going to pussy out this far in.”

“Who the fuck has been polluting my baby brother’s mouth with such foul language?” Part of her is trying not to laugh and the other part is just tired.

Ayato only hears the sarcasm in her voice, and he gets that smug look on his face. It flashes to annoyance in heartbeat when her ring tone cuts him off again. “Fuck, just answer it or turn it off!”

She answers it just to fuck with him.

It isn’t Irimi. It isn’t her slow and calm voice that floats from the speakers. It isn’t anyone Touka would have expected. It’s Kohaku and their voice is terrified and on the verge of breaking like glass. “Hinami’s missing,” they yell.

Touka goes cold.

OOO

  
The thing about some newspapers, is that they don’t fact check particularly well. If it bleeds it leads, as the saying goes. A headline saying “Ghoul Brutally Kills Young Investigator” gets a lot more attention than “Young Investigator Survives Ghoul Attack.”

It’s really a simple way to make money if you’re short for rent. You mine security footage and sell it to the highest bidder. It goes viral, goes into print in various trash magazines. The respectable publications will pick up on it a few days later, and by then it doesn’t particularly matter what the truth is, because they will correct it a few days later.

A grimy thirty second clip is all that a decent hacker would sell, because they know that they can string out the process and get more money. A grimy thirty second clip is all that remains of the scene, because the CCG erased the rest of the fight. So every publication knows by now that some investigator got sliced in half a few days ago, and it is the best news to sell.

Even respectable newspapers print the story, but not on the front page. That means it sneaks into hands that otherwise would have never held that information. It’s hard for a child to read quantifiers and disclaimers that signal the reports are unconfirmed by official sources. They simply read “carnage” “Ghoul” “dead.” They skip to conclusions, the smell of a dear friend’s blood still lingering in the air around them. The child in question doesn’t like knowing that someone died because of them. The child in question can’t stand the smell of blood any longer and they run to the window, trying to purge the scent of death from their nose.

They don’t expect to smell their mother. It’s layered under the smog of cars and the scent of dozens of people and the heaviness of ozone, but it is definitely present and fresh. A few hours old, at most.

The child in question never witnessed their mother’s murder. The child in question is dull eyed and reckless from too much grief and too little sleep. The child in question can’t stop themselves from leaping out of the window and scrambling down the street chasing after the over-powering smell of the person they miss the most.

OOO

Many years ago, another child wanted a hamster. It wasn’t for any particular reason. She just wanted a pet she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about in a few years, but one whose company she could like. Her father was allergic to cats, so she settled for a hamster. She was practical like that.

Now, this father remembers very clearly that damage to the valve of a hamster’s water bottle will cause the device to leak. He remembers that the ghoul he is currently hunting has an acute sense of smell, much more so than others that he has encountered. He remembers that the mother’s body is still at the CCG morgue. He remembers the map of likely locations that the ghouls he was hunting were hiding out in.

And he still has the whole afternoon to run by the pet store and the morgue.

OOO

“We don’t have time for this!” Ayato argues.

Touka flips him off as an afterthought and doesn’t slow down, telling Kohaku to _stay where you are no don’t follow the—SHIT!_

She really does throw her phone half way across the street and it pisses her off that this was the worst possible time for her to lose her temper. She races after it, shoving through the crowds typical of a Friday evening in the consumer district. Some asshole yells after her to watch where she’s going. Ayato knocks him onto his ass and Touka can’t bring herself to give a single shit.

Her phone is lying in two pieces on the pavement. She snatches them off the ground and tries to quell the fear in her chest. Her keychain is gone. She knows that she’s crouched in the middle of the sidewalk and obstructing everything, drawing attention to herself, but Touka is shaking too badly to stand.

She spies Ayato’s muddy boots a second before he yanks her up by her coat and drags her out of the way. “Pull yourself together,” he hisses. “They can take care of themselves. You told me we have one chance. We can’t waste it.”

Touka rips his hand off of her and bares her teeth. “No they can’t! They aren’t us! Hinami will get slaughtered.”

Ayato sneers down at her. “Maybe it’s time for her to grow up.”

Touka has a thousand and one words itching at the back of her throat and buzzing in her ears. She wants to rip her baby brother’s tongue out and shove it down his throat. All her potent violence is stirring under her skin and twisting in her stomach and she has never wanted to hurt someone so badly.

“No.”

But she doesn’t. This is her brother, and as much as she wants to hurt him for his poison and disregard, she never will. The world is too cruel and so was she once upon a time. She won’t feed into it again. She stills all the fury in her skin and turns away. It’s harder than it should be. She still marches away.

“I’m not going to go off and look for wayward fucking children.”

“Then leave. Hinami comes first.”

Ayato’s crushing grip comes down on her shoulder and jerks her around. His eyes are burning red and oil, and Touka stands up on her tip toes to slam her forehead into his nose. He squawks and curses, and Touka grabs his wrist and drags him away from the crowds that might see him and start screaming.

He decks her and wrenches his hand away. She knows she deserved that one. She ignores the sting in her jaw and says, “I have to find them first. Kohaku already said there was a trail. You can come with me or go back and do whatever the fuck it is that you’ve decided to do with your life, but I’m going to find them.”

“You,” Ayato says softly, with some form of reverence, “are the stupidest fucking person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting.”

“Good,” Touka says. “I have my standards to maintain.”

She turns away and this time Ayato simply falls into step behind her. “I have a better nose than you anyway.”

“In your dreams.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic! If you enjoyed it, please review. Reviews help me understand what the audience enjoys and they also inspire me to write. If anything was unclear to you, ask and I will explain.


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